I get my driver's license tomorrow. behind the Laundromat. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. I should have gone mad without it. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me.
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