Evelyn paused, leaving her chisel and mallet on the rough hewn table. In the corner of the room there was a phonograph, an older crank style model with a horn. This worked well for her considering not every room was wired yet for electricity.
The needle was skipping against the edge, playing a few notes filled with hisses and pops before repeating again. She walked over casually and lifted the arm, filling the room in silence.
“Time for a break,” Evelyn said.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
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