Today’s flash fiction

Laundry Ticket

Julie looked at the rows of cleaned clothes wrapped in plastic bags hanging from metal racks.  Many were work clothes: hospital scrubs, uniforms, business suits.

A heavyset gentleman came in asking for his order.

“Whaddaya mean they’re not done?” he said.  “Lemme see ‘em. Now.”

Alone in the laundry, Julie trembled.  A co-worker had told her Mr. Giordano’s garments had several blood stains.  Not all had come out.  And there’d been a knife in a pocket.

A casually dressed customer walked in, and Julie relaxed.  “Here’s your uniform Sergeant Torres,” she said.  “Is this where you pin on your badge?”