She’s in the shop. They show two young men on the grainy TV. The shop mechanic’s eyes are lost to the TV. Not sorting drill bits anymore. She starts to deburr her pieces at his table. Deburring, removing of inconvenient edges.
“You know,” he says, “I swear I’ve seen him before. In the shop, probably. That’s why you gotta ask what they’re working on. Because you never know, do you?” Her piece is becoming smooth. No edges. A girl sits down to deburr next to her. The girl’s eyes are lost to the TV.
“Incomprehensible, isn’t it?” the girl says.
“Yeah, incomprehensible,” Cal says. The floor is covered in corkscrewing metal chips.
Nihilistic Porcupine 