It was beautiful, the way she looked, so neatly folded like a favorite denim shirt, blue, soft, lovingly creased.
It had taken time, days, stonewashing, before her body became malleable.
He used several brands of detergent. He used scented fabric softener, lavender smelled the best.
He admired the whiteness of the industrial sized front loader, ran his hand over the warm glass window, mesmerized by the pink suds.
He dried her flat, smoothing her, the way she had smoothed his sheets.
Kim lives by a creek in Minnesota. Some of her stories can be found online at Insolent Rudder, SalomeMagazine.com, Edifice Wrecked, and Elimae. She also has a story forthcoming in the anthology: Sudden Fiction From the Upper Midwest (Spout Press).