the ticking of the clock on the wall

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the ticking of the clock on the wall


the pounding of the heart in my chest


the stomping of hard rubber on smooth cement


the shuffling of papers as they are stacked and filed


the dusty blinds have been drawn shut on the window


life outside seems so far away

untouchable to even the longest reach

the sky seems nothing more than a hazy shade of gray


but the hustle and bustle of traffic

engines revving

horns honking

brakes squeaking

stopping the car for the man crossing the street on his cell phone

seeps through the walls of the old building


stuck in a moment


when time passes