“It won’t fit.”
Sandra looked up from kneading. Mollie’s face was red with exertion.
“What won’t?” she asked, resuming the stretch-fold-stretch-fold rhythm. Working dough relaxed her. The knowledge that each pull and press moved energy from her muscles into what would later feed them. The cycle of it.
“The laundry. Nothing fits.”
“That’s odd,” Sandra noted. “I washed linens in it just the other day.”
“But nothing fits!” Mollie’s voice shook. “Not a sock!”
Sandra paused. She forgot how easily her sister got flustered even by simple things.
“It’s a Space-Savor model,” she offered. “Have you tried shrinking the items first?”
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt: © Na’ama Yehuda
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