Birthright

Rhiannon bit her cheek. “I’m still trying to figure out how this is your load. Looks like mine.” She shook her head and put the hoodie back to dry. In the next machine over, her own darks swirled and flopped in an untidy pile. A flash of red t-shirt. The sleeve of a dark blue sweater. The slayer stood up and looked at her. “Oh hey,” she said as it dawned on her. “Elevator. Boy, did you get out on the right floor. It got stuck halfway up.”