Dirty laundry. Soiled garments. Sweat.
Such a quantity of sweat that it drips from the laundry as it sits in the basket or hamper. Soiled and discarded.
What fabric could withhold such a quantity of sweat that it would drip from the laundry, perhaps as it is suspended in air? A wet towel pulled from a washing machine with a broken spin cycle. Drenched. Rung out in a sink. It is a torrent of sweat that soaked, and is now dripping from, the soiled laundry.
What is the origin of the perspiration? Exercise? Sexual anticipation? Sexual intercourse? Is the torrent of perspiration due to global warming?
Or is the dirty laundry the metaphorical airing of naughty secrets, and the sweat drips from the garments to reflect the wealth of hidden truths?
Left unsaid. Another bead of perspiration soaking the soiled laundry of Mr. Horan and his lover. The only certainty: they are fuckin’.