THE CLOSER

‘I don’t know why they don’t close the door,’ he said closing the door to the Cotham Road South launderette after a man’d just left with his young son.
‘Born in a field,’ I said.
‘I don’t think it’s that,’ he said, ‘but I thought they’d be more intelligent round here. It doesn’t make sense to leave the door open, it’s not as if it’s fresh air with the road right outside and all the traffic going by.’
‘They’re not taking responsibility for their actions,’ I said. ‘It’s like those people who drop litter and expect someone to clean up after them.’
‘I saw you closing it earlier,’ he said.
‘It irritates me when people leave doors open,’ I said.
The man himself had arrived just after I’d loaded two washing machines. He walked round by the dryers and out of view where, later, I saw him in the corner writing in a notebook rested on a surface with several carrier bags. I didn’t see him do any washing or drying and he left and came back a couple of times while I was there.
When I’d finished, folded and put my clothes into the large blue plastic Ikea bag I’d used, I said, ‘Bye now,’ and he said, ‘Bye,’ and I left making sure I pulled the door closed behind me.