The hands creep relentlessly towards 2:00am. It’s nearly that moment when the clocks are moved forward.
One hour less in bed. One hour less of my nighttime punishments.
With the clock sitting on my chest, I twist the lever on that vanishing hour. 3:00am.
So easy to eradicate.
Yet it’s the wrong sixty minutes that have magically disappeared.
Those few dreadful moments, last Wednesday evening at Claire’s, will be with me until the end of time.
Published: Paragraph Planet
