Three thousand papers printed at three forty

Nazario Elorz, pressman, reaches in between two rollers and pulls out the first copy, warm as a loaf. He smells it. That is how he reads it.

Pilar Sanchidrián waits with the engine running and eighty-six letterboxes to open before six.

Three thousand come off. The town has two thousand eight hundred people. The two hundred left over end up wrapping fish.

"Nazario, the sea bream are reading us again today," says Pilar, and pulls away.