I like clocks.
Their ticking and the slow march of time.
Has it been 10 minutes?
I look back on the time I spend with grandpa and my siblings. It was all so fleeting.
Yet at times I feel almost imprisoned by time itself as the handle stopped moving.
What does it take to escape its grasp?
Has it been 2 hours and 17 minutes already?
I look at the clocks again, the handles are gone. As I blink, the clock starts losing shape.
Before I knew it, it has been 8 hours, right on the dot, or I would assume so.
Where has the time gone?
