It was nearly nine p.m. when they walked into the all night Laundromat. Despite the time, a woman and three children sat in the far corner. She talked on her cellphone, and waved her free hand to punctuate her words.
Herrick chose a plastic chair on the other side of the room and flipped absently through the stack of old magazines. Micah dumped his bundle of clothes into a nearby washer.
The washer started and he flopped into the chair next to Herrick, his eyes on the woman and her tiny denim shorts. "Take a look at that."
"I see her," Herrick answered stiffly. "Perhaps if she had more clothing on."
"More?" Micah chortled. "I think you mean less." He gave his friend a once over. "Never mind. I'm talking to a guy in a cape."
"It isn't a cape. It's a cloak. And it's comfortable. You sho
