The rhythmic thumping of clothes being tossed around in the stainless steel dryers that line the wall are occasionally punctuated with the chirruping of the arcade games on the other side of the laundromat. The bright florescent lights illuminate the table I am sitting at and glare off of the table top with epithets carved in the surface acknowledging who will be together forever, who is a whore, and who is a bitch. I sat with my head bowed, facing the windows and the automatic doors that open at the slightest hint of movement, letting in the last few chill breezes of a late September night. In the glass, I can see the reflection of a guy sitting in the far back corner of the laundromat, hunched over his cell phone. I sit and wait for my friend Kara to return from the bathroom, absorbing the sense of loneliness that has consumed me for the past two days.

Loneliness that is temporarily relieved by a brief email at two o' clock in the morning. Loneliness that is wearing me thin. I am hoping that in the next few days the loneliness will retreat to whatever place in my heart it is lurking and let me feel happy again. But in reality, this loneliness is going to be a long-term companion. Perhaps I'll just get used to his heavy company.