The fingers are flying! Day One!
It was cold today. The clouds outside lay low over the mountains in the background, menacing as they peered over their craggy tops. Rain ran in long streams down the windowpane on the side of the bench where a line of people sat next to a conveyor belt. There was little chatter between them as they hunched over with their work space. There was not a lot that changed here from day to day, but it was a job. Out of the wall splurted the conveyor belt carrying little lens cases and lenses. Their job was to delicately pick up the lenses and drop them into the two separate compartments. It was boring but required some concentration so as not to damage the delicate pieces of plastic.
Mary took a few seconds to glance out the window and stare at the clouds in the distance. They were beautiful to her, wispy streaks coming from the bottoms where the drops fell. The land was rich green and a few brown trees dotted the grass here and there. She would often take these moments to think about nothing. It was just comforting looking outside. She looked down at her hands. They were old now, however you could see their former beauty. Deep purple lines bulged out of the paper thin skin, weaving little roads all over them. Her fingers were still long and slender, but where the bones joined you could see the bumps of arthritis.
The line kept moving in front of her of tiny plastic lenses. She clasped the little sucker on a stick in her hand and carried on with her task of putting them in their little cases. Often she would look as they passed by her on the conveyor belt and then out at the changing scenery and it would remind her of her life. She would get older and frailer, there were days that she would be at home, but all of this carried on without her. Life carried on.
Some days she would smile as this thought crossed her mind. It made her feel a part of the great scheme of things, like she was a part of the turning of the clogs of the world. However, there were days like today when she would feel an ache in her heart that had been there for as long as she could remember. It was a pain that was deep inside and one that she would carry until the day she died. On days like today she would see how insignificant her life was, even without her things would carry on. She looked over at the young guy who sat next to her. He had his whole life in front of him and here he sat, fiddling with pieces of plastic day in and day out. What kind of life was he leading and what kind of future would he have? When she was at home at night she would often think about this boy.
His name was Jake. He looked around 23 years old and wore clothes that looked like they had been bought out of a charity shop. They were always clean though and he always smelt like he had just got out of the shower. His hair lay in tight small braids that spilled out from under his multi-coloured hat.
Mary took a few seconds to glance out the window and stare at the clouds in the distance. They were beautiful to her, wispy streaks coming from the bottoms where the drops fell. The land was rich green and a few brown trees dotted the grass here and there. She would often take these moments to think about nothing. It was just comforting looking outside. She looked down at her hands. They were old now, however you could see their former beauty. Deep purple lines bulged out of the paper thin skin, weaving little roads all over them. Her fingers were still long and slender, but where the bones joined you could see the bumps of arthritis.
The line kept moving in front of her of tiny plastic lenses. She clasped the little sucker on a stick in her hand and carried on with her task of putting them in their little cases. Often she would look as they passed by her on the conveyor belt and then out at the changing scenery and it would remind her of her life. She would get older and frailer, there were days that she would be at home, but all of this carried on without her. Life carried on.
Some days she would smile as this thought crossed her mind. It made her feel a part of the great scheme of things, like she was a part of the turning of the clogs of the world. However, there were days like today when she would feel an ache in her heart that had been there for as long as she could remember. It was a pain that was deep inside and one that she would carry until the day she died. On days like today she would see how insignificant her life was, even without her things would carry on. She looked over at the young guy who sat next to her. He had his whole life in front of him and here he sat, fiddling with pieces of plastic day in and day out. What kind of life was he leading and what kind of future would he have? When she was at home at night she would often think about this boy.
His name was Jake. He looked around 23 years old and wore clothes that looked like they had been bought out of a charity shop. They were always clean though and he always smelt like he had just got out of the shower. His hair lay in tight small braids that spilled out from under his multi-coloured hat.
