Cent et Un Mots par Jour

Cent et Un Mots par Jour


Tic toc tic toc. To walk around with the time in your hand is kind of magical. One second, you smile at a pretty face. Two seconds, you're pushed by some rude guy who grunts an insult. Three seconds, you wait at a crossroad. Four, five, six, seven seconds. Eight seconds, you cross the road with half a dozen other people who look at their feet. Nine seconds, you stumble. Ten seconds, a young woman asks you if you're okay. You're fine. You check your watch. Tic toc tic toc. A little closer to 9 o'clock, and you're almost there. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen seconds. You're in front of the coffee shop, and she's here. You watch her through the window. She's beautiful. She's reading a book, a cup of tea in front of her on the table. You look at your watch once again, and it's time. You push the door. You wish you could break that watch. You wish it would be enough to stop the time. You want this moment to last forever.



Claire Annovazzi

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