Janie and The Gray - Part 1

The bell blared. I flinched. The memory that I called home the entire shift was blown away like a dandelion wish. Sandcastles at the edge of the surf, bright blue sky, squawking gulls, electric green ice cream melting down my hand, laughing to the point of tears, the sunset streaked with every imaginable shade of orange and red, the warm feeling of contentment on the quiet drive home. It was all gone — replaced by my wretched reality.

The assembly line slowed to a halt. My hands continued to work through the motions like a tragic game of charades. I willed them to stop and put my arms to my sides, an act that caused a flood of unhappy awareness of the rest of my body — the familiar ache of my feet, back, shoulders, and arms.

That damn bell was my only tether to time in my windowless existence. I added a mark to my mental tally — one-thousand, one-hundred, and seventy-five. 1,175 shifts. 1,175 days of confinement in the factory. 1,175 days since I had seen my family or friends. 1,175 days since I spoke to anyone. 1,175 days of silent and mechanical servitude to my gray masters.

Next: Janie and The Gray - Part 2

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