The tiles on the bathroom floor were freezing cold.
I wrapped myself in a faded blue bath towel.
It was slightly damp and smelled like the cellar
where my mother usually dried the laundry
on a clothesline which stretched from the furnace
to the door of the room where my brother
did experiments with his chemistry set.


Uncle Roger File 3: Terminals by Judy Malloy
click on the keyboard or the spacebar to read the story