Seven o Clock

The alarm was not supposed to go off yet. Jake was absolutely certain the alarm was not supposed to go off yet. His eyes flicked to his watch, which moments ago had been flashing six fourty five. Seven. His bargain bin, navy blue wrist watch was now flashing seven o clock with the bright intensity of those neon pink signs advertising girls. The ones he walked past on his way to the bus stop every morning. It wasn’t possible, it shouldn’t be possible, and yet here it was. Glaringly obvious with the inane shrieking of his bedside clock. It was seven.

              “You’re going to be late for school!” The voice which rattled up the stairs belonged to his mother. He should have told her. At the age of sixteen he still to this day told his mother everything. Not that he’d admit that if he was asked; it wasn’t cool to love your mom. But this one thing…. He didn’t think she’d believe it. Not because she wouldn’t believe him, of course she would. She’d believe him if he told her the sky was purple. But it was hard for him to imagine her believing him about this, mostly because he didn’t quite believe it himself.

              Jake was losing time. Not in the same way that many people lost time these days, especially kids his age; that is to say he wasn’t whittling it away doom scrolling on various apps on his cell phone not noticing the minutes ticking by. Ticking… the word reminded him of yesterday. Yesterday when he’d sat for three straight hours staring at a clock. Not a digital one this time, after all perhaps those were simply subject to some massive data glitch. No, this was a good sturdy grandfather clock. The kind that cost an absurd amount at the local antique shop. The kind that bonged out the top of the hour.