“I made a mistake,”
Hutch said, holding the basket with the laundry.
“What is it?” Starsky stopped dusting his book shelf. “Lemme
see.” He approached the basket and looked at the clothes.
“What the fuck have you done with my laundry?” he cried. “Everything
is pink! How could you wash my red t-shirt with all the other stuff?”
Then Starsky saw Hutch’s face: Guilt-ridden and embarrassed.
All of a sudden, Starsky’s rage faded. He reached out to Hutch,
who jerked back.
Starsky spread his arms. “No big deal. Come here, ya big lug.”
Concentrating on the important things of life.
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