The Vending Machine Graveyard

Gulls were perched in long, silent lines atop the machines. They seemed to be watching me. The terror that had descended on Watford and Peyton Town had just barely subsided. There was a chair set out beside the biggest of the shacks, the administration building. I sat there for two hours wide awake, watching the small shapes of gulls make their nocturnal explorations of the dump. That night there was no sleep at all. All I tried to think about was the coming of my paycheck and the freedom from this awful existence.