I once met a young boy at the laundromat who wearing a too-small Spiderman suit. He didn’t know any English, and I don’t know any Spanish, so we just played with our faces while the whites dried. His young mother seemed appreciative that he was occupied. I helped him pull down a comic book he’d thrown high atop a washer. His sweet smile and lack of chatter warmed me to him.
I saw him again many months later the same laundry spot looking older, more manly with longer hair, maybe seven now. I tried to catch his eye. I even waved. But he didn’t remember me.
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Sweet…’just couldn’t hold back the sunshine, could ya?!
That’s what you ladies don’t understand about Spider-Men. Spider-Men live a life that you could never fathom, with a woman in every laundromat and a million webs all over the city. You can’t hold on to a man raised by a mother genetically programed to eat her lovers after copulation. Just treasure the moments you shared and watch him swing away.
So it was just a one-cycle affair for you? :(
Ernest Hemingway as a woman, in a laundromat. It was a good spin cycle, huh?
Wasn’t Spiderman raised by his aunt and uncle or something?
^^ CAUGHT YOU WITH A COMIC, BUDDY
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