At Bed’s Edge

He sat and waited until the sun peaked over the edge of the horizon, covered from head to toe in blankets that no longer draped his bed. He exhaled, they smell like her.

The room was eerily quiet he thought as his eyes scanned his surroundings for potential noise makers.

“One, two. . Three?” He stood, counting the clocks that were no longer alive. The blankets slid to his feet in one big indistinguishable pile as he started walking towards the noiseless clocks. A few feet away sat the biggest and upon reaching it, he gave a quick look over before picking it up; it was cold. Metal made up the casing that surrounded the interior and held the glass in place. Between the bells on top, sat a metal ball baring shaped like a poorly carved key.

He sighed, setting the clock back on the shelf and returning to the bedside. Scooping up the blankets, he wrapped himself up tightly, shivered, and continued to stare out the window.

“Just another day.”

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