Feels like we're dying

There was a village deep in the mountains where all the people worked in a factory. Men and women would wake up in the morning and leave their houses to start their day. They would smile and wave, they would say, "Good morning" and talk about the weather.

The streets of their town were made of tar from the factory, the air was filled with smoke from its towers, and all the houses were put together with tools from their workshop. Nobody ever treated it like an eyesore, nobody ever thought bad thoughts about it. It manufactured their lives and supported their way of life.

Everyday at noon, Jim the foreman would call for lunch. The town ate together in a cafeteria that was dirty and too small for everyone to fit in. The plates and lunchboxes they had were chipped and worn and the food was delicious.
Their conversation were loud and hearty. Everyone was drunk off of their time together.

Jim the foreman then would rise from his seat and shout out to the townspeople, "Sure Feels like we're dying don't it!!" to which everyone would laugh and laugh. They all loved hearing that joke.

As they got back to work they would chuckle and whisper it to each other throughout the day. As they got to the end of the day of course the last hour always dragged on. Not because they were eager to go home, but because the machines were so old they would start messing up at the end of the day.

When everyone left, they would look back fondly at their factory.

When they all got home, they would go straight to bed. There are were never any lights on at the houses because all their power was directed to the factory to keep it running.

None of them could wait to smile again tomorrow. "Sure feels like we're dying don't it?". Hell of a joke. Hell of a time. Hell of a town.