Time

The clock ticked. He picked it up and wound it. Tightening the spring so it would count out his life for another day, hours, minutes, seconds. As it unwound, it ticked. His life slowly slipped away, he knew he'd be dead. He sat up in his bed and put his feet on the floor. It was cold. He yawned. His body was warm. The clock ticked, endlessly. Well, as endlessly as he was there to wind it. He reveled in that information. The clock needed him. Did he need the clock? If it stopped, would his heart also stop? Would the slow winding down of the clock mirror the slow decline of his own heart? He tried to wind the clock tighter. It got harder and harder to move the key. Finally, it stopped, it could not be wound any tighter. He pushed it too hard, and the spring snapped. He fell back onto the bed as his heart seized and stopped.