“What’ya working on?” is what the shop mechanic always says when someone new walks in the door. Because you never knew what people were working on. It always surprises you. And they always have stories. The machine shop is in its morning lull. Two boys at the mill grinding down a part for their electric car. It was a school team or something. Neither of them are electricians. That surprises him. One girl at the lathe but he hasn’t asked her what she’s working on. A stray strand of hair falls over one eye, but she hasn’t pushed it back.
“What’ya working on?” he asks.
“Part of a pen. For my father-my dad.” She doesn’t look up. Corrects her formality. “He always carries one in his shirt pocket. It ruins the shirt so my mom stopped buying him shirts with pockets.” He nods.
“If you need anything just give a shout.”
“Thanks.”
He is rearranging the drill bits. Always get messed up. People not looking where they put them.
The girl’s phone rings. She stops the lathe. “Hello?” Pause. “Do you know where you are?”
Nihilistic Porcupine 