Dear Guy in My Laundry Room

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Maybe it’s my fault for walking my dog at 11:30 p.m. Maybe it’s my fault for looking in the apartment complex’s shared laundry room to see why someone turned out the lights.

Oh, sorry sir. Did I wake you?

OK, I don’t think you’re supposed to be sleeping in here. It’s probably not good for your back. I mean, there’s really not even a whole heck of a lot of room to stand in here. I can’t imagine how cramped your legs are going to feel tomorrow.

Actually, I think I should probably call the cops.

What’s that? You’re on probation? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were already convicted of a crime and have decided that the residents of this apartment complex wouldn’t mind if you sleep where we clean our clothing.

Well, all right. I won’t call the cops. Just don’t be here when I get back.

Huh? Oh, no. I don’t want to hear your story. Just get this bike out of here and be gone.

Sincerely,
Kris