My clock has stopped ticking.
I had a restless night. A particular drawing and the act of drawing haunted my sleeping visions. I woke and woke. And this morning, intent on doing a touch-up wall job that I’d been putting off for too long, I am also stymied by the wrong paint. We joke, he and I, that it’s ‘The Mercury’. It probably is. I give in, submit, and leave it all be.
My clock meanwhile, I’ve discovered by default, ticks if I turn it upside down.
