The smoke at the back of her throat
makes her feel like she’s been yelling her
whole life. Which she has, but that’s beside
the point. The real truth is in what
caused her to raise her voice in the
first place.
Another day at the machine carving
out metal circles with a mill and then
sending them down the line. They watch
the time on the big clock at the center of
the far wall and it’s always been four minutes
slow.
There is one man who knows what must be
done to win their freedom back, and she seeks
him out in the dark corners of the wilderness,
but never finds him. Instead she uncovers
a nest of new born snakes under a pile
of pine needles, and the mother sinks her teeth
into her ankle.
Teleporting Typewriter 