I was an accounting clerk in a ball bearing factory. There were huge machines which punched out different sizes of ball bearings. The sound was deafening, and even when one became inured to the sounds, it still remained in your consciousness. Thump, thump, thump. A foreman came into the office, ashen and shaken to say that the President had been shot. The shock seemed to silence all sound for a few moments. Then the thump, thump, thump returned as the sound of grief.
Submitted by: psuhas
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