He was in his early 70s and arguably the oldest laundryman in the neighbourhood. Last week, he dropped dead while ironing someone's shirt. He was found with his head and torso flat on the table. For someone who thought he'll work right into his 100s, it was bit of a surprise to witness an otherwise healthy working man dying without a note of caution. As a sign of respect, all the other—and comparatively much younger—laundrymen decided to take the day off. That's what working class community is all about, right? So, shutters were rolled down and his departure was sincerely mourned. But nobody came close to grief as much as that guy whose shirt bore a burning hole in the middle.