After hours of silence in a room all alone, I noticed ticking. Regular but subtle, and certainly present. I took note of my pen. It was ticking? How could this be? I pondered the spring inside, and thought, "perhaps". Why was the ticking so frequent and consistent? I gently laid it down on the table. Still ticking. As I timidly lowered my ear to the level of the pen, my head turned, and I saw the face of a clock on the wall.
Ah. More likely source.
12.06.2007
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2 comments:
So touched to be first on the list of blogs you think are great! And I do reciprocate, wholeheartedly!
I audibly laughed and will, perhaps, give you credit when I soon write about a ticking pen.
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