tick tick tick tickIt’s so silent in this box of a room. Save for the click and clack of my keyboard, the only noise audible is the tick of the second hand on my Timex. This second hand makes this stifled sound every second of every day and yet the only time I notice it is at the most quiet point in the night.tick tick tick tickIt’s practically screaming at me now, this second hand. I’m taking the watch off and setting it on my desk now because this is the time to write and not the time to pay attention to this second hand. Not now.tick tick tick tickAlthough the space between I and this second hand has increased, its constant motion is somehow still roaring at me. I can’t take my eyes off of this second hand. It’s begging me, now. Pay attention to me.tick tick tick tickNow I set the watch in one of my drawers. Still, the second hand on my Timex barks. Look at me. Listen to me, put me on. I’m here. I’m here. I can’t ignore it any more. I take the small battery out of the watch. Now in perceived silence I can still hear this second hand.tick tick tick tickListen to me, I’m right here. Put me on, turn me on, play with me feel me look at melistentomepleaseI’mhereI’mrightnexttoyou.I wish I had a second hand.
