First Thing Today

This morning blew in like a sauna full of fish, white fish. Lake Michigan simmered like a sea gull soup. The inside of the museum was dank with wilting paper and ink that refused to dry. Even the type was getting sticky and stuffy. Nothing could be kerned but the xxx condensed, the extendeds elbowed each other for space. The latins and romans grumbled from the lower cases and somebody had taken all the furniture. The pressroom slept like a gothic cathedral and some of the tuscans had wandered off. Quotes were tossed about in empty spaces, falling on deaf ears. No key would fit a quoin, the slugs refused to be locked up. Rules had been broken. It was time to turn on the lights.