It is still ticking. First slow, once a second. The pace of a heartbeat. Steady thuds.

Almost imperceptibly at first, the seconds fly by faster, and with it, the music increases its tempo. The minute hand spins too, faster, the minutes a young girl may feel she needs to catch up, so she isn’t left behind, slipping through fingertips.

9:10.
9:15.
9:30.

As it reaches the next hour, the clock seems to grow, ready to burst.

It reads 9:45.