The filing cabinet that hums

I'm in the basement of an old job I haven't thought about in years, and every file drawer is warm to the touch. I pull one open and the papers aren't papers—they're photographs, each one someone I once crossed off a ledger, and they're all looking back at me like they've been waiting. No one says anything, but the hum gets louder, and I know I'm supposed to close the drawer, only my hands won't move.