The clock, from it’s spot on the wall had dutifully kept count for as long as the girl could remember. Then, without slowing, without warning, it stopped. A great tick, and where the tock should have followed, nothing…
The sound of her breath filled the quiet room. A ragged noise, unlike the former click of the clock. For a moment, she wondered if time itself had stopped. She watched her skin for signs of aging, pictured her grandmother caught mid-cough, forever neither living nor dying. A worm of feeling flipped in her belly. Panic or joy?
From somewhere, beyond the walls, a dog barked. The girl sighed. Time would march on whether she counted or not.
Succinct as the hands on the clock!