Great Things – Flash Fiction
I know it’s only been three weeks, but I am already missing my brother. He is only five. Much too young to work in the factory. At eleven, some think I am too young too, but I will show them. I am strong and hearty, not weak and sickly like some of the girls here.
I gaze longingly out the window. The family farm is too far away to see, but I know where it is. Just there, past the smoke stacks of the steel mill, just over the mountain, on a dirt road somewhere beyond that. I shrug off the nostalgia and go back to my machine. Another ten hours of stitching shoes. A twelve-hour work day. Seven days a week.
I place another rubber sole over the metal plate. Twist the leather around it and turn on the machine. As the machine hums, I remember Poppa’s words.
“You have a chance to do great things, Emmy. The city will be lonely, but we are always right here,” he said, pointing to my heart.
I weep for a moment, sniffle, and dry up my tears. I am strong and hearty. I will do great things.
©2016 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.