The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. The dust hung in the air, floating on an imperceptible breeze and twisting like a coiling worm languidly writhing on the damp pavement after the rain had stopped. Except in that case, the sun was coming, and the heat would soon bake the worm into nothing, but here, in the House, there was nothing coming. Just a dull clicking sound as the clock ticked—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. My eyes could see the overstuffed armchair from where I sat slumped, the dent in the cushion where She had sat still visible. She had only just stood, and Her footprints in the rug could still be seen, but by counting the seconds the clock ticked—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. The air was thick, but I didn’t need to breathe; I could hold my breath a long time. She didn’t know that—I hadn’t told Her, and She hadn’t asked. She didn’t know a lot of things, like how many seconds the clock had ticked—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. There was a sweet smell in the air, but like old fruit rather than fresh sugar. It sat heavy in the nostrils, sticky and thick, almost like being underwater. I wasn’t breathing it in, but I knew it was there. It had been there a long time, nearly fifteen ticks of the little hand of the clock—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. It was nice to listen to, something to hear in the stuffy, heavy, airless, dusty, cloyingly sweet room. My heart didn’t beat anymore, so it was nice to have something here that ticked—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. She’s just through the door, I know. I just watched Her leave a few seconds—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. If the clock—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. How many—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady. Maybe—

The clock ticked rhythmically, not counting the seconds—there was nothing to count—but keeping the beat steady.