MODULAR HARVEST SYSTEM
I found one out in the lobby. Did I cry about it? No. He was crawling towards the exit door. Well, it was also an entrance door. Enter or exit - take your pick.
See what I have to put up with? This guy had already made his choice. He had made his entrance. He had made that choice. Now he was crawling, backtracking.
Sick. Sick. Sick. And he was crying about it. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. It can be refreshing to put people like him to rest.
It doesn’t need to be refreshing. It is business; an abattoir.
People lead their lives on one long winding unpredictable curve, no reasoning behind their tears or their joy. They continue to wind around, until they reach me.
Do you like the sign out front? I think I heard a song about it, singing out of a dungheap. I forget the level of clearance that it can reach at its peak.
It made me sick to my stomach to see them crawling like that, with tears in their eyes. I wanted things to run smoother. Blueprints, without smudges. Why was I alone? We could have planned ahead. Could have coordinated the execution more.
I was glad I left an extra round in the lobby, at least. At least I had done the best I could.
A guy like me, you will always be able to understand me, even through my tears.