This week’s picture prompt from Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
“Don’t stop. If you stop, they’ll fire you,” whispered her neighbour.
She pedalled faster, spun the wheel and kept her head down.
He walked past her station, the foreman. Every few minutes, he strolled by, whistling.
The needle followed the line—even stitches—a perfect hemline or else there would be trouble.
The noise of countless machines whirring in the background vibrated through the soles of her boots. Hours to go and already her back ached.
Just a few minutes of fresh air, sunlight, please.
But if she stopped, she’d go home without a penny. Ma and Pa would be furious.