Sorry, doomed planet's gonna be a while...

...So here's a short preview from my next novel, Men and Angels
They piled onto the bus, all 20 of them, giggly and chattering away like it was a chartered bus rather than public transit. “Can you believe we’re going to the Laundromat?” Izrala giggled, “usually we’re not allowed to go until second semester!”

“We wouldn’t be going at all,” Yumi replied curtly, “if someone hadn’t broken the washers and dryers at school.”

Oh, lighten up, Yumi,” Theresa laughed, “it doesn’t matter who broke them. We get to go to the Laundromat!” Yumi just shrugged her shoulders in disgust.

Izrala knew what this was about. Where there were Laundromats there were boys, and where there were boys there was Charlie, Yumi’s long time love interest who had recently been seen around town with another girl. Secretly she felt sorry for her classmate, but she’d never say the words out loud. Yumi was the school Pariah, the only student who had admitted to having supernatural abilities. Izrala sometimes wondered if this is why Charlie was no longer faithful to his “precious Yumi, most beautiful of angels”, as her had once called her.

Hey, Izzi, whatcha thinking about?” Theresa grinned, “and don’t tell me nothing. I see that look in your eyes.”

“I’m thinking.... that I should have worn a nicer tee,” Izrala grinned backed, fingering the holes in her old grey sweatshirt. Theresa started to laugh and Izrala joined in, until both girls were almost rolling out of their seats with laughter. It had been a while since either of them had laughed that hard and it felt liberating, like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. They were still giggling when the bus came to a stop in front of the Laundromat and they were forced to haul their bags down the isle.

“I think,” Theresa giggled, trying to catch her breath “we should have sat closer to the front.”

“I agree,” said Izrala, panting as she hauled her overstuffed garbage bag through the crowded seats, trying not to double over with laughter, “that would have been a good idea.” They finally made it into the Laundromat, trailing far behind their classmates.
The Laundromat was a massive concrete building with a reenforced canvas top, filled wall to wall with washers, dryers, and soap dispensers. There was a long row of tables in the middle for sorting and folding, and at the entrance a there was a boy who’s name tag read Joshua.

“Joshua,” Theresa started to giggle again, “wasn’t he from Israel?”

Izrala punched her friend in the arm. “Are you implying something?”

“Israel, Izrala, oh never mind! You’re so thick sometimes. Anyway, you should go talk to him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Izrala protested, “don’t you think I’m a little out of his league?’

“Darling,” Theresa replied, “he works in a Laundromat. No one is out of his league.” She pushed her friend back towards the entrance. “Now go get him, tiger!”

“But what will we talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Theresa threw up her hands in frustration, “ask him for change or something. Just talk to him!”


Izrala walked hesitantly towards the boy name Joshua. His very presence made her knees tremble and her bottom lip quiver with fear and anticipation. He was beautiful to the point of otherworldly, with full lips, flawless skin, and a gorgeous set of baby blues. If I didn’t know better, Izrala thought, I’d think he was an angel. “Excuse me,” she asked politely, “do you have change for a five?”

He looked from his novel and smiled. “Of course,” he replied, “would you like that in quarters or dimes?”

“These machines take dimes?”

He grinned and shook his head. “No, I was just buying time so I could work up the courage to ask your name.” He took a deep breathe, then stuck out his hand. “Hi,” he mumbled, “I’m Joshua. Who might you be?”

Izrala took his hand and shook it firmly, turning a deep crimson. “Hello, Joshua,” she mumbled back, “I’m Izrala.”

“Nice to meet you, Izrala. Would like to join me after my shift for Coffee and doughnuts?”

Izrala let out a sigh. “I wish I could, but I have to get back to school when I’m finished laundry.”

“No you don’t!” Joshua leapt from his seat violently, knocking his book to the floor, “Please, stay and have coffee with me!”

“Well... if it means that much to you. When do you get off anyway?” Izrala could not believe that she was agreeing to miss the bus and strand herself in the unknown city for a boy she had just met.

“Another half hour. And it does.” He smiled coyly, “I don’t usually believe in love at first sight, but an angel just changed my mind.”

Izrala cringed. The word angel reminded her of Yumi and her love, shot dead by the revealing of a long-kept secret. How long could a man love an angel? Apparently never: men only loved imitations. Joshua, sensing her discomfort, went back to reading his novel, looking up now and then to smile at her with puppy dog eyes. She found herself falling for him, one smile at a time, despite her best effort to remain objective. He was, after all, a stranger, albeit a cute and attractive one, and he had done nothing to earn her trust.