Scene in a Laundromat

Laundromat. Three hours to kill.

I deploy easel and chair next to a washing machine. I leave just enough floor space for people to squeeze past me with their laundry hampers.

Takes a while to draw in all those darned colored gumballs. It crosses my mind: What if someone wants to actually buy a gumball and mess up the arrangement?

Should I post an "Out of Order" sign on it? No time. Gotta get it laid in.

Wait, what? A kid sneaks up behind me and jams a quarter into the slot. He spins the handle before I can say anything. Each time he cranks it, all the gumballs shuffle around inside.

“Hey, my still life!” I protest weakly.

He pops the gumball in his cheek and narrows his eyes. “What are you doing?” he says, between chews. “You an artist?”