My train each day is a filthy ride.
Harried passengers, captively feigning aplomb, have no choice… The alternative is meltdown.
In the tunnel, wind rumbles, belches, swirls. At the end, finally, light.
My train arrives.
A clock face smiles genially as it marches into sunset.
Racing backwards down the slope of Time, the face stops glowing, cracks appear; it winds itself less regularly… Forgets to sound reminders now and then… Alarming.
Increasingly, out of sync.