It happens every day, yet I watched like a new employee. Selena, who was no older than me, was led away by an older lady after our employer yelled at her carelessness. Now we were behind schedule even more. Winter was coming; sales would go up in a couple of weeks. Customers wouldn’t be happy when stores run out of stock.

“Messinger!” Our emplyer shouted. Everybody was back to work, except for me. “Fix that machine if you know what’s good fer ya!”

Selenea hadn’t managed to fix the waterframe before losing her finger. I didn’t know her well. We never spoke to each other before. Her face wouldn’t be around here anymore. She was from the orphanage, and had a bald spot from where our boss had torn her hair. Her dress so faded, who knew what the original color was.

“Messinger!”

“Yessir!” I dashed for a spool of thread and approached the waterframe.

People lose fingers to these monstrous machines almost every day. I couldn’t remember a day when everybody went home unharmed. Others – the older people – could argue that. Of all the years I worked here, I managed to not fix machines. Mostly I swept floors so we wouldn’t step on lint. When I went home, Mam would pick the lint off my trousers if she had time. I would bathe in the building’s bath, eat supper, and sleep.

The machine was still moving. Many of us believed they never stopped. The factory kept going even after we left, so it seemed. No person was gone for long before it was time to work again.

My own hands shook as I got closer to the machine. There were as many people who did this many times without getting hurt as there were who did get hurt. The machines should be splattered with the blood they shed.

The tray thrashed about like a caged wild animal. My steps stopped. Wavering, I tried to get the spool in its place. Soemthing was thrown about, barely visible. I tried to grab it to see what it was. I quickly snapped my hand back. Any later I would have lost it. Not worth a stray empty spool.

What ever was in the tray flew at me. I screamed and stumbled backwards. Selena’s severed finger laid not too far from me.

Some laughed. My cheeks and ears were already red; our boss came over and dragged me up by my hair.