The Typewriter

On the desk in the corner of the library sat an old typewriter that no one seems to even notice. But, one day I decided to walk up to it, sit down, placed my fingers on the home row of this old machine. It felt good. I lifted my fingers off the keys, brushed the dust away. I couldn't resist for I put a piece of paper around the platen and just began to type and type and type. I do not what I typed, but it just kind of felt good to hear the clickety clack of this machine.