Tick
Can you hear the time?
                                                As her pencil – tap, tap, taps – on the desk,
                                                history drones on in the background. She
                                                wishes for time to wisp itself away, as her
                                                eyes chase the clock around the bend.
Tock
It passes by.
                                               The clacking and clambering of high heels
                                                on pavement announce the haste in her
                                                heart. Five more minutes – just five more
                                               minutes – until her life tumbles before it
                                               begins. Time drips down her spine; it sends
                                               a shiver back up it. Coffee drips down her
                                               arm.
Tick
It never stops.
                                               His time is measured in meters and dashes.
                                               He runs circles to get to the end. While he
                                               races the runners, he races the time, trying
                                               to beat counting at its own game.
Tock
Why won’t it stop?
                                              A mother jolts awake to the sound of wails.
                                              “2:38am.” Dragging her body out of a
                                              cloud, she wishes for time to sleep through
                                              the night. She wishes for time long gone.
Tick
What if it stops?
                                              The power goes out in a storm overnight,
                                              and the clocks begin to flash. A father
                                              meanders through the house that night to
                                              mend each blinking beacon before his kids
                                              awaken, suspended in time.
Tock
Please don’t stop.
                                             With these people concerned about time,
                                             you probably glanced down at your watch.
                                             Do you have enough time to make it to the
                                             next meaningless task?
Tick
How much is left?
                                             How do you feel about killing time? We’re
                                             going to die, and we’re running out of time.
                                             Yet, as time murders you, you ****** time.
Tock
What time is it?
                                            The world goes on, and it will happen again.
Tick
Once at the beginning.
                                             As her pencil – tap, tap, taps – on the desk,
                                              history drones on in the background. She
                                              wishes for time to wisp itself away, as her
                                              eyes race the clock around the bend.
Tock
Can you hear the end?