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The Clock - A Short Story

A short story of one man's race against the march of time.

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The Clock - A Short Story
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It had been one of those days. You know the kind of day we are talking about. Nothing had gone right since the shower was just five degrees too cold and the toast burnt at breakfast. The kids had gotten on the bus after only one temper tantrum, from the youngest. Something about the burnt toast.

Adding to the impending doom was the traffic. Miles of it. What the hell is this for? Forty minutes late for work and counting. Coffee in the thermos had gone cold, but that's better than it burning your tongue. On top of everything, the needle was venturing nearer and nearer to that big E which meant even more trouble.

The traffic started to clear. Anxious to see what all of the commotion was about, Theo peered questioningly over his steering wheel. Two minutes later he was crawling past the wreckage of what seemed to be a tractor trailer. The trailer part was intact, but the cab had been reduced to smoldering wreckage. It looked like a scene from Apocalypse Now after Robert Duvall had scorched that tree line in the distance. Hopefully, the driver got out in time.

Work started like any other day, just fifty minutes after it should have. Coffee in the lobby, hot this time. Someone said something about donuts? Wondering where the donuts in question, Theo wandered into the break room to find his fellow employees scarfing down donuts. On opening the Krispy-Kreme box, Theo found no donuts. Those bastards had sat there for the last fifty minutes eating donuts like hyenas picking at the bones left by some pack of lions. They gave absolutely no thought to the fact that someone who just sat in traffic may just have wanted one. Just one. Unbelievable.

At 11 o'clock came the meeting. They had all been dreading it for the past week. Work was due that just had not gotten done. You know that feeling. The feeling in the pit of your stomach, knowing that you're going to be in shit up to your eyeballs for the next sixty minutes. Stuttering and muttering trying to find some footing on the sand that shifts quickly beneath your feet. Question after question came about strategy and decisions, Theo had shitty answers.

He took lunch in his office, as he usually does. Things didn't go well. These coworkers are a flock of chickens, mindlessly pecking at dirt and rat turds in the ground until the found a piece of grain. Nobody had a single nice thing to say, how could they? Everybody hates each other. Walking around, delegating tasks to someone below you just so they can make the intern do it. The boss came in, saw Theo taking lunch in his office, and suggested that maybe if he worked a little harder, those 11 o'clock meetings would go better. That's all he said, bidding a goodbye.

That's when the clock started. After a morning full of annoyances how could it not start? Honestly, it usually happened after lunch, but today it happened during. Perfect. It was 12:14 PM, and there were exactly 285 minutes until 5 o'clock, and Theo would count every single one of them.

Having received minimal satisfaction from lunch, things started to move like syrup straight from the fridge. Theo checked the clock, 12:45 PM. 254 minutes left. More coffee, this time from the break room. The thought of that first sip on his lips, the warmth and the way it worms its way down into the stomach brought a smile. Sweet relief.

Cold. The damn burner was turned off on a half-empty pot. Sure as hell wasn't half full. Not the day for that type of thinking. Microwaving seemed like the obvious choice. As Theo's favorite mug spun round and round in the artificial light, there was a moment to think. To catch one's breath in the hustle of the day. Why did he share such fond memories with that mug? It was simple, dark orange in color and heavy. On the side, it said "Do what you love, love what you do" in white, blocky lettering. How did the get that light to stay on? Why did it stay on?

The sharp shrill of the artificial bell snapped him out of it. If he had been paying attention, Theo could have saved everybody the annoyance of that stupid sound by hitting clear at just the right time. Maybe his boss was right last week, maybe he shouldn't daydream as much. The mug was hot, too hot. Burn your finger if you think about touching it hot. Here lies the biggest test he would face today: carrying that glowing mug the forty feet back to his office.

With his favorite mug perched on an ornate wooden coaster and a stack of fresh research on his desk, it was time to get some work done. The questions raised in this morning's meeting weren't those easily answered. Time and focus had to be put into this, dedicated time and focus. Just then the phone rang, as it always does in these situations. After a short but not necessary conversation with the woman in the office next to his, Theo got back to the task at hand.

The coffee had gone cold. Rather than risk carrying the mug back from the break room a second time, he drank it. Caffeine works regardless of the temperature, right? It was 3:07 PM, 113 minutes until he could leave.

As he sipped his cold coffee and read through the fresh research, ideas came and went like birds on a high wire. Some he wrote down, some he laughed at. He had been working for what felt like ages, he had a page full of ideas and answers to all the necessary questions. The phone belched out that stupid digital tone again, this time it was the big boss. He was calling to let Theo know that the account had been canceled. All of that work had been for nothing.

It was 4:15 PM, 45 minutes until he could leave. It was time to give up for the day. Good work had been done that would never be appreciated and ideas had been conjured up which would never again see the light of day. Emails were checked, Candy Crush was played.

Five o'clock came and went with a whisper. Finally at 5:00P PM, Theo looked at the clock with a smile. Twenty-five minutes later, he was taking off his shoes and loosening his tie.

It was time for a drink.

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