Carly Greenberg
WASH, RINSE, REPEAT
There are so many cycles to choose from. Bulky, delicate, perm press. The dial shifts from one setting to the other. Darks, whites, colors. It turns clock-wise and back. Hot, warm, cold. A tablet is loaded, a button pressed, the lid lowers with a click. Time seems to drag on with just a few grumbling quips, this metal box mocking you for your peculiar fixation. A few moments more until you hear it- the rush of a miniature tidal wave. The metal cube begins to shift and scrape and tear at the Spanish tile beneath its feet. It is time. You slowly lift your hands until they hover over the clear yet reflective lid. To hold them for a moment, to feel the humming of water, metal, and tile on the soles of your hands. A forceful push past the magnetic hovering and you transcend the barrier. Your delicate palms lay flat on the glass. You feel it buzz through your skin, through your veins, and into something greater. A young soul vibrates with power that cannot be obtained outside of this small yellow room. Face presses to glass with eyes wide. You have entered the fifth dimension. Time runs backward, your irises swirling to keep up. The sweater you wore to grandmother’s funeral. The socks soiled with grass from sliding to second. The bra that Mr. Morrison accidentally saw when you bent over to grab your Algebra II textbook. The shorts that always get stuck over your thighs. They are running in circles to chase away time. Blue. Yellow. Black. Red. Blue. Yellow. Black. Red. Blue. Yellow. Black. Red. Blue. Yellow. Black. Red. Green. Black. Red. Green. Black. Red. Green. Black. Red. Green. Black. Red. Green. Maroon. Green. Maroon. Green. Maroon. Black. All smiles, sweet sighs, vibrating arms and cool cheek. Another sweet afternoon with the memory machine.
Carly Greenberg is an undergraduate English student at the honors college, New College of Florida. In addition to studying, she interns as a reader for the New York City-based Charlotte Sheedy Literary Agency. When not reading for the agency or writing essays, she is completing a humorous YA manuscript on the marvels of summer camp. This is her first published piece.
Read more from Cleaver Magazine’s Issue #2.
