Eli watched the dryer drum rotate, causing Eli’s clothes and Joshua’s clothes to run circles in symphony. The heat emanated from the machine and the clank of metal from jean rivets created a rhythm, along with a slide of the metal. Traffic sounds from the nearby street added to the noise pollution. In a corner, a small black and white television replayed a Vietnamese soap opera while an attendant watched. The neon signs of Little Vietnam, the area near Virginia and Mills, or ViMi as the locals called it, shed garish light back onto the Formica of the folding tables.
Eli shook his head.
I can’t believe it. The answer to who Joshua was so logical, like the watcher said.
Joshua zipped up his book bag then tossed it in the plastic chair next to Eli, snapping Eli out of his thoughts. “All ri
