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The Passage of Life

Tick tock_ the onomatopoeia resembled the abstraction of time. The clock was wearing a wooden hut and golden nudity and didn’t know about any heck of the fourth dimension. It ran in its own speed, no matter where, it had energy to survive. After small intervals, pairs of eyes were moving towards its round ticking belly. No one was getting late or breathing early.
An energy saver swung down in the air by a wire_ an umbilical cord, and burnt sickly but differently than humans. In that gloomy light, an ant fearfully stuck to the corner, hidden behind a single uncooked rice of twice its own size and dragged it to the tiny hole of a majestic wall. Insects thought that they could hide in the corners; they could be if they weren’t being ugly for the watchers.
A girl turned side on her bed, unbothered about her trouser that rose up an inch more, exposing more hair of her leg. According to the law of force, the trouser couldn’t force itself back to hide her imperfection.
Tick tock, another minute. A young boy whose name was something kept by his parents, sat on the gravity, trying hard to sniff back the exceeding mucous produced by his nostrils, secretly wiped it by his shirt and frankly gave a short itch in his uncombed hair.
The broken small threads that were called garbage when hit the floor, were more sensitive than the humans. They danced on the muddy ground under the swirls of fan. The same moment, many cells divided in the boy microscopically_ without telling him.
An old man stared in the vacuum, waiting like all of them. A woman blinked her sleepy eyes, holding the nature’s calls back as they weren’t very severe. Realizing the sleep overcoming her, she yelled at the daughter to get up and start cleaning the home. The home_ protection, safety, satisfaction.

Tick tock, another minute. Wait! The air whispered_ oxygenous air. On the barren roof, a cat climbed and climbed away to the next home. Thin legs, preying paws, evolved eyes_ only the fittest. The old man coughed and a cricket fell silent in the courtyard, rubbing its stick like fore limbs, waiting. The woman looked at the clock again that was their solar system_ the modern version of day and night.

Tick tock, another minute of 60 times 9192631770. The girl got up from the bed that protested loudly. The cricket stopped screaming again and focused its compound eyes towards the peeking light in the space below the closed door. The nail of the bed bent a little more and a drop of water containing a dead amoeba fell down from the soaking wet cloth on the thirsty ground of courtyard. The girl stepped towards the kitchen, crushing the hind legs of an ant, making it unfit for longer survival. The girl opened the fridge and looked into the lightened up food. The potential.

The clock moved louder, hammering its breaths everywhere in the room. And the time moved unconcerned about the clock’s imitating foolishness and some language covered chart called calendar. The girl took out a bowl of potential for dinner, spinning gladly with the planet and them, passing forward, waiting for eternity to get over.

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