I turned my chair slightly. There was a monotonous ringing from just beside me. A click followed, a shrill scream, then indecipherable noises as an exchange took place. I could see the thing violently shaking as a stream of white emanated from its top. I always liked to press this against my cheek when it was still fresh, and feel its soft warmth. Then all was silent once again, bar a gentle sound of moving air. I watched this same series of events three or four times a day, yet I never grew tired of it. And every time it happened, I thought of her, the girl that used to sit where now the fax machine.
And if I wasn't me, maybe, just maybe I would've thought of other things too.