Clocks

Ticking was grating and it only distracted her from her goal at hand– instead of focusing her grind on her studies she focused on the things that she wished to be in her next life that didn’t require studies– a cardboard box, a mouse, a bottle of wine.  But those were bad choices, she realized, as they all had short lives and violent ends– cardboard box torn apart after utilization, a mouse, in a simple quest for delicious Gruyere, snapped to death via temptation, and a bottle of Chardonnay swallowed and released from the bowels into the sewers underground.

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