Doing It Old-School

A little while ago, my brother found an honest to goodness vintage typewriter at my grandma's house.  And today, I was finally able to get my hands on it.  I set it on the kitchen table, the aroma of dinner's baked potatoes melded with the smell of ink and paper.  I inhaled deeply and brushed the tip of my finger reverently along the keys.  Tentatively, I pressed one.  "Click!" it responded.  I smiled and inwardly squirmed with delight.  I pressed a few more keys.  Soon, the timpani of clicks and bangs filled my ears as I poured my mind out onto the page.  Then, I reached the end of the line.  I held my breath in reverent anticipation.  I pulled the lever, "swish," and then... "DING!"  I knew then what was the most beautiful sound for a writer's ears.  A timeless moment later, I reached the end of the page.  Triumphantly, I pressed the caps button.  My fingers hovered for a moment, then typed "THE END."  But I knew deep in my heart, this wasn't the end, this was just the beginning.