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Summary
“I... I think I should go,” Louis brushed past her to the wall of washing machines and in despair almost glued his nose to the glass of that one moving drum, trying to push some buttons to make the damn machine stop.
“Pff,” she puffed out in disappointment, “you should already know it doesn’t work like this,” she crossed her arms over her chest, threw her head back and looked up to the ceiling as if bored.
Apart from several large, long flat lights (which were bathing the room in a yellow beam), there was a blade fan there. Louis just noticed it moving.
“It won’t stop turning until it’s all clean.”
moodboards + fic post