Word: steams
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Three years ago, Giuseppe was promoted to drive the steam roller...
Giuseppe, who had never had anything to love, loved it as a hunter loves his dog or a rider his horse, or perhaps just as a man (in the 20th Century) loves his machine. When the day's work was done, Giuseppe would drive his steam roller around to his shack, and putter about, oiling and cleaning it. Sometimes at work Giuseppe would set the huge machine rolling and get down in the road to stare at it as it marched on alone, slowly and steadily crushing the gravel beneath its bland power...
...Just Thinking." One day last week, in the early afternoon sun, Giuseppe stood staring at his steam roller. "Well, Giuseppe, what are you doing there?" asked a worker, one Tomaso Sonnino. "Nothing. Just thinking," said Giuseppe. "Wondering what would happen if nobody could stop this thing. This one and all the others, just rolling on forever...
Tomaso shook his head and walked on. Suddenly a shadow came abreast of him. It was the steam roller, slow, driverless. Tomaso saw that there were dark stains on the white rollers. They were bloodstains. Fifty yards behind, three-year-old Rose Delauney, playing with her doll on the sidewalk, cried: "Come quick, papa. Come quick. Monsieur bleeds...
Said Jean Cresta, installed as the new driver. "He always seemed alone when he was with us. Alone with his steam roller...