You remember walking in off the street to the laundrette. A cold wet November evening. Or was it October? It was late and the place deserted. The flickering fluorescent lights buzz above you. Luminous relics from a bygone age. The laundrette is eerily quiet except for the hum and spin of the machines.

You wait alone for your your laundry to spin itself dry. The lights suddenly flicker bright and then plunge the room into darkness. The hum of the machines slowly stops. Strangely one machine is aglow. Weird. There's a heartbeat of silence, followed by faint, unsettling noise. Like a whisper from the shadows.