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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1302679-Elsie-Dreams-in-Color
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by Astrea Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Other · #1302679
A girl leads a bleak everyday life until her dreams begin to seep into her waking life.
    Elsie Forker sat in the third row of the bus and nervously straightened her gray skirt over her knobby knees. She absent mindedly picked at a small piece of imaginary fuzz and then turned her attention to the world that lay beyond the greasy windows. The winter had been harsh and March was all wind, rain and gray skies. The ride never changed. The bus rolled past the same square factories, the same bleak tenement homes and the same empty lots every day. The abandoned cars were always parked in the same place, still gutted. The homeless man under the train station looked up with the same blank eyes as the bus rolled by as he had for every one of the days in the three months since Elsie had taken the job in the city.
    The bus stopped and Elsie walked towards the steps that led to the factory. She joined the line of other women who pulled their cards from the racks and punched in their time. She smiled mechanically at Ann who waved and went to store her coat and lunch in the coatroom. Pushing against the sea of humanity that was her coworkers, Elsie stashed her coat next to Ann’s and walked with her chattering acquaintance to their positions.
    Elsie listened to Ann’s cheerful babbling as she did every morning and stood by the conveyor belt that carried her livelihood past her in endless monotony. Elsie wasn’t even sure what the little metal pieces were for, she only knew that the two pieces must be joined and inspected before being sent on another endless belt to their destination.
    Ann’s topic of the day was the same as all the other days, with minor variations. Today included a numbing description of a search for Joe’s socks. She could talk for hours about Joe. They were newlyweds and Ann loved being the perfect housewife. Joe was a good man, according to Ann. He was a mechanic on the other side of town and Ann thought he was “dreamy”. Elsie had her doubts, and in her imagination he was already balding, had grease under his fingernails and burped at the table, but part of Elsie let Ann chatter on.
    The conveyor belts started and the little metal pieces sprung to life, dancing down the line from worker to worker. There was Margarita, a young girl fresh off the boat from Guatemala who spoke barely enough English to get by. Florence was next, an outspoken and matronly grandmother of six who kept working to support her children’s children. Rosie, who always had red rimmed eyes and who claimed to have been a musician at one point, was at the very end of the line. At the easiest end of the line as first was Raquelle, who was late as usual.
    Elsie, Ann, and the other girls in the line turned to look as Raquelle came running in. Everyone hated her, envied her, or despised her. Everyone that is, except for Frank, the manager. But it was understandable just by looking at her. Raquelle’s blond hair was wispy and falling out of the haphazard bun on the back of her head. She wore a skirt much shorter than the other girls and left two extra buttons undone so that the lace of a pink bra was peeking out of her uniform.
    The girls had given up hope long ago that Raquelle would be reprimanded for her behavior. Her clothes were the least of her infractions. Raquelle liked to believe she was the only one in the world who was important and behaved accordingly. She had the easiest position along the conveyor belt and had a tendency to let the other girls pick up her slack. She was rarely ever on time, and the girls swore that the only days she managed it was because she had been sleeping with Frank and he had given her a ride to work.
    As expected, Raquelle put her hand lightly on Frank’s arm and whispered a breathy apology that was met with a shrug and a nod. She turned and walked to her position while he “supervised” her work from behind.
    The other girls on the line turned back to their work and ignored Raquelle’s sunny greeting. All that is, except for Ann. Ann, in Elsie’s opinion, was polite to a fault and still believed that all people were innately good despite their faults. No one in Ann’s life had had the heart to break her of this innocent way of thinking and Elsie seriously doubted it was even possible at this point.
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