Once upon a time in the “hood”, there was a young woman named Natalia Perez. At least that was her current name. She was a woman whose youthful and exotic beauty portrayed her as being in her early twenties. She owned a laundromat and drycleaners, no small feat for a person so young. Every day she sat at its counter, folding clothes and handing out quarters for those whose hasty lifestyles rendered them ill-prepared to launder.

“Good evening, Mr. Mayford. Here to pick up your wash and fold?”, She posed with large brown eyes and eyelashes that threatened to either hypnotize or flog those looking upon them.

“Well darlin’, as good lookin’ as you are, I’m not here for your dazzling wit or pretty face. My maid is on vacation, and I’m stuck doing my own chores. Can you believe it? Where would this broke woman freshly off the boat get money like that?” He poured out, with little to no regard for cultural boundaries.

Natalia sized him up for a moment as if to gather her thoughts with regard to a proper response. “Well…Mr. Mayford. It might surprise you to learn that it was I who furnished 16-year-old Consuelo with both a ticket to visit her home in Guadalajara as well as an attorney who will resolve a great many issues for her.”, She responded, ceasing her folding and nailing her large eyes to his.

“Wait a minute, you? You’re a laundry lady, what’re you running numbers on the side, growin’ marijuana out back? What business is my maid to you?”, He blurted out, beginning to grow red.

She smiled. “How old do you think I am, Mr. Mayford?”, she said.

“I don’t know, twenty-two or there abouts. What the hell does this have to do with you kidnapping my maid?”

She gave no regard to his rude and short-tempered questions but instead chose to pose one of her own. “What if I were to tell you that I’ll turn 457 years old next Tuesday?”, she said with a grin that was growing into a scowl.

“Look, I’m just here for my clothes, but if you wanna play this game, I’d say they must be handing out Botox at the immigration office. Or maybe you’re getting high on bath salts or been sniffing too much Clorox in here or something. How did you know my maid’s name anyway?”, He asked.

“Oh, I know everything about you, as I did your great, great grandfather. You were a mean boy who grew up to be an evil man. Johnathan Michael Mayford, born to June and Travis Mayford in Camden, New Jersey, August 17th, 1990. Senior trader at Smith and Loeman, owner of a penthouse on 5th Avenue, and fond of the sexual exploitation of underaged Latina girls who lack immigration status.”, She poured out matter-of-factly.

His mouth fell open. “How the fuck?”

Without hesitation she pulled out a jar with what appeared to be insects running in circles and thereafter handed him a large magnifying glass. Confused and stunned, he took the magnifying glass in his own hand and looked. Within that strange jar were about twenty men and a few women. A moment later, he felt dizzy and then found himself standing among those insect-sized, desperate folks, looking outward at a giant, curved, glass wall. He could see Natalia’s eyes on the outside of that wall now like two brown planets.

“The biggest temptation is to settle for too little”, she said. She then placed the jar on a hidden shelf next to dozens of others.

“Hey Larry, call Goodwill, let them know I have another batch of unclaimed clothes.”, She called out to her assistant. After that she sat back down and began folding clothes once more.