"Do it now," Angela warned. "I don't want you late for this extremely inconvenient and frustrating experience."
Sharon drove to the dry cleaners, muttering to herself the whole ride. The man gave her the business suit she had dropped off a few days earlier. Right as she was paying, the hanger belt contraption that held all the dry cleaned clothing fell to the floor, blocking the doorway. The man who owned the dry cleaners tried to clear away the skirts and winter coats, but it was useless. A piece of metal was wedged tightly into the door frame, making it impossible to get out.
"What about a back entrance?" Sharon asked.
"That got sealed in the last dry cleaning hanger belt accident. We're trapped."
"I can't be trapped," Sharon explained. "I need to be at a work dinner at 8 o'clock tonight. And if I can't be at that, I need to be at home by 10 o'clock so I can trigger. We'll be out by then...right?"
But when the man called the police, he was told that it would be several days before they could help them out of the store since they were all acting on a bomb threat tip at a local office building. Or a gas leak. One or the other.
The man shared his bagged lunch and the two of them sat on the pile of once-cleaned clothes, eating lemon juice spritzed apple slices and talking about love. And life.
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