“Hey, Kayla?” says Levon into the phone. “I’m sorry to do this again, but I have to stay late at the plant. I won’t be home for another couple of hours.” In the reflected glare of the overhead fluorescent lights, the break room stands in harsh relief. In the corner sits the aging refrigerator, the plastic chairs, and the plastic table. On the walls hang laminated safety posters, and the clock. “I know, I know,” says Levon. “I’m sorry. I was looking forward to the chicken parm. I can heat it up when I get back. There’s nothing I can do. Hyundai sent our tail lights back. I guess they were the wrong red. Now we need to make new ones. At least it’s some overtime, right? Right? Okay, yeah, you’re right. Look, I gotta go. I’m not supposed to be on break and they’ll write me up. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay? I promise. I love you. Okay, bye.” He hangs up the phone. The clock ticks. Levon sighs and opens the door to the factory floor.
The color of tail lights, brake lights, and blinkers are mandated by federal law. Image Credit: Flickr User Sarah Marshall (CC BY 2.0)