"He must be home. His laundry is here," Mrs. Curtis said as she stepped in the back door and stomped the snow from her black clasp boots. She was looking at her son's suitcase and the multi-colored blizzard of T-shirts and blue jeans crawling out from the washing machine....
Sketch: Vol. 47
, Article 10.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol47/iss1/10