short story about clocks


We all start this life with a certain type of clock. Some of us are blessed with one as big as a grandfather clock, some of us manage with a pocket watch. As time passes by our clocks take on the years we go through, if the years are troublesome and full of pain, our watches start to build up a little dirt, tick a little slower. If we take care of our clocks, open them up and oil the gears every so often, they seem to run smoothly.

But none of us can control the long and short hands, they keep moving, keep counting down the days, sometimes our hands stop all together and we seem lost in time with nowhere to go… we open our watches and try to move the gears manually, sometimes we just leave it all together and try to live without looking at the time.

But someday, one day, hopefully soon, another person with  a faulty clock comes past, and you take a look inside and see that if you swopped a gear or two, your watches could start running again, the machines start spinning, the hands start counting, two clocks sync as one and time is once more.

May you find someone who makes your clock tick, who makes your time worth every moment, may you find someone who will share the endless rotations of seconds that pass in a day and may you share the gears that make your watch tick to the rhythm of the the time that passes between two who are in sync.

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