Almost

He sat in the bolted down, hard back orange chair watching his clothes tumble behind the glass door.  They chased each other as though bewitched, forced into a never ending circular game of tag.  The buzzer sounded, the spell broke, and they fell limply to the bottom of the canister as it came to a slow stop.  He opened the door and swept the still hot clothes into the basket he held beneath them.  He walked over to the folding table and dumped the clothes out once again.  He began folding them quickly to make sure they didn't wrinkle, just as his mother had taught him before sending him off to a far away school.

The door chime sounded, and he looked up just in time to see her struggling through the door.  She had a laundry basket balanced on her hip, and she dragged a full duffel bag behind her.  He dropped his gaze quickly as she walked past him towards the washing machines.  Her back to him, he was safe again to watch her as she pulled clothes from the bag and stuffed them in a machine.

She was pretty.  Her soft brown hair was pulled up in a high pony tail, exposing a graceful neck.  She was dressed, well, for the laundromat, in an oversized t-shirt and pair of shorts.  Her legs were long and tanned.  He looked away again quickly when she turned around to reach for the laundry detergent.  He didn't want her to catch him staring at her butt.  He did manage to catch a glimpse of her face, though, and he could tell she wasn't wearing any make up, just a hint of lip gloss.  He liked that.  She turned back to the machine and measured out a cup of blue liquid.  He noticed her hands were delicate with long slender fingers.

She shut the lid and punched in the required four quarters.  She grabbed a book from her basket and looked around for an empty chair.  It was then that she glanced his way and caught him staring at her. 

He caught his breath.  Their eyes were held together by a tenuous silver thread that was a moment.  Other moments arrived and took their place in line, waiting to occur: a greeting, a joke, a walk home, a first date, a first kiss, a revelation, an engagement, a marriage, a baby and another, a life together, a happily every after.

A blush rose from his neck to cover his face in crimson.  He tore his eyes from hers just as the corners of her mouth began to lift into a smile.  The silver thread was broken.  The possibilities dissipated like a tiny wisp of smoke.

He shoved the remainder of his clothes into his basket, scooped up his detergent and dryer sheets, and stumbled out through the laundromat door.  He kept his head lowered as he fumbled for his keys.  He drove away, cursing himself for being so stupid.

*****

The prompt today is: A signal is misinterpreted...  Funny, because I misinterpreted the prompt and thought it said: A signal is missed...  Anyway, I think my entry works either way.  Kind of.  If you would like to play along, visit Write Anything's [Fiction] Friday.