Bundles are tied with plastic strap and dropped at corners in the dark. Each one carries a top sheet with a route number written in marker, the only handwriting the paper will carry all day.
Counted, not read
The people who handle the most newspapers read the fewest. They count, strap, lift and drop. The words inside are someone else’s job until the sun comes up.
By the time light reaches the kitchen table, the paper has been handled perhaps six times and opened once.