Getting It

Okay, let’s try this again. First you put your left hand here, see?”

She didn’t see, didn’t see at all. He had been attempt­ing to explain this process to her for the last twen­ty min­utes, and she was sim­ply more con­fused than ever, but now with the addi­tion­al veneer of flus­tered embar­rass­ment.

Of course, she didn’t real­ly want to get it. She didn’t want to be here. She def­i­nite­ly did not want to be here with him. It was one thing to have to unex­pect­ed­ly work with some­one four­teen years after you had stopped being mar­ried to them. It was yet anoth­er thing to have to work for them, oper­at­ing a machine that she couldn’t believe even exist­ed, let alone required her to touch it. She should have known a job with “extru­sion” in the title was going to be some­how, well, just wrong.

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