TINY, MEANINGLESS THINGS
The New Yorker|October 24, 2022
Wednesday is ironing day, a day of smoothness, the pleasing, embryonic smell of wet heat, and the satisfactions of erasure.
Marisa Silver 
TINY, MEANINGLESS THINGS

 How rewarding it is, Evelyn thinks, to work the tip of the iron into the wrinkled underarms of her favorite blouses and watch their instant transformation into material that is fresh and untried. Now that she is seventy-four, and her skin has lost its elasticity, this trick of reversing time is no longer available to her.

This story is from the October 24, 2022 edition of The New Yorker.

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This story is from the October 24, 2022 edition of The New Yorker.

Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.