After My Father’s

we,” Nora said.

I looked down through the glass at the production floor.

Workers were pretending not to stare up.

I walked to the intercom on Dad’s desk.

My hand hovered above the button.

Dad’s voice echoed in memory.

When the time comes, sit in my chair.

I pressed the button.

The old speaker crackled across the plant.

“This is Carrie Whitaker.”

The machines continue reading …