Press monster

I went to the press today. I’ve worked here for three years and have never been. I felt like a little girl on a field trip and shy and like I was in the wrong place with my sandals on, all the big people working there like ants covered in ink and newsprint. They know when an intruder is among them. That’s what we were – intruders through the tunnels. I give the same looks to people who walk through my office, people I’ve never seen before. I don’t trust them and I don’t know why. I have no reason other than I know they don’t belong in here.

There were arms and belts and rubber and rolls and rolls of paper – giant toilet paper rolls – but not. Rooms with yellow lights, exposures.

And then I heard it. The press itself. The heart humming. So fast it pushed and beat and beat and beat. The sound of a monster breathing. I wanted to linger to listen to his heart. Most of the people wear earplugs. I wanted to hear it ears wide open. I wanted to hear him running.

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