[Laundromat: Adam and Hunter]
There was somebody new at the laundromat. Hunter had grown up not far from Repose, and he had returned to its magnetic emptiness over and over as the years had gone by. Repose never demanded anything from him, and its winding roads and dense woods had provided shelter to a frightened, angry child. He thought of the town, and most of its attendant businesses and buildings, as his own. The sense of proprietary interest was shared by most of its long-time residents, particularly the ones that were the result of several generations.
Hunter was wrapped up for winter in a down-filled coat with worn bits flying off it, but the rest of his clothes needed work. Dirt poor and showing it, Hunter usually scrubbed his clothes in his trailer sink or shower, and he brought what he couldn't fit into either of those places with him in large trash bags: a couple dog beds, some particularly stained jeans he wore digging, and a comforter clogged with dog hair.
He only had one dog with him today, a large mutt with clear German Shepherd lines. She followed him inside the warmth of the laundromat, and Hunter gave the new guy a wary look to see if he objected.