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I dismantled the clock next to the computer, my legs resting over the desk and draped over the fax machine. I pressed the face of the watch against my ear, falling into its rhythm of passing time with it's constant even determined clicks. Time drumming itself into my ear whilst I wait for slow connection bytes. How long I listen to it, I do not know, other than an ocean of time and constant beats have passed. And then I let it slip and pick up my fingers to type this. And now that I see it sitting infront of me I'm aware of what the time is, twenty past four. Before that it meant nothing, it had no definition other than merely time. And as I finish typing my hand reaches to grasp it firmly and replace it to my ear again, and I think I'll take it with me when I leave...