I can only assume the lone wolf is the sock lost in the laundry. Poor sock. Left behind by the amorous two, glutting their desire in the poetry of laundromat love. Were we all so lucky as these two, the lone wolf would be the coupling wolf, the fraternal wolf, the wolf who grabs elbows, well socked.
The Suds Club stood out. Was there really a club of people who find love via laundromat? Did they have an internet presence?
So I googled it.
No more running, lone wolves. See you at the museum.
~contributer
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