The wall clock ticks like the timer on a bomb.
I can't stop it, reverse it or slow it down.
Each tick drags me forward, helpless and nervous to the allotted time.
I can no more avoid it than the beating of my own heart as it pounds with futility against it's cage of bone and cartilage.
The dread is an invisible demon sitting heavy on my shoulders and only I can hear the sharpening of it's knives.
I sweat and become pale, then the tremor in my hands begins.