There is one clock left that I wind every day.
Its bushings are worn; its face is cracked. Its gears jam and its chimes no longer mark the hours.
But each hard-won tick is a celebration of the life it has clocked.
This is my submission for this week’s gargleblaster challenge over at yeah write. The challenge poses a question and we have to answer it in exactly 42 words. Answers can be fiction, non-fiction, or poetry.
This week’s question is: Have all your clocks stopped?