This is a very rough draft. I haven't even taken it through a second edit, but since I haven't posted in a while, I thought I'd give it a shot. Please be kind.
Imagine a grandfather clock standing in an abandoned house, too big to bother to move, telling time to no one. It ticks a hollow sound that reverberated through its wooden box of a body. While dust collects on its face and its hands move round in useless circles, it would wonder what will become of it, if a clock did wonder. A clock stands and waits for the time to pass by. It chimes and echoes through the empty house.
Now imagine a wedding which no one attends. The in-laws argue in the front pew of the church while their children conspire in the vestibule.
“This was genius,” said Vanessa, finishing a twirl in her little white dress.
“When I saw the size of that guest list, I had to do something,” said Aaron. He encircled his arms around his new wife and kissed her as though she were the only other person on earth.
The wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson was to be the social event of the season, uniting two prominent families of a tight knit community. If only Mr. Aaron Thompson had put down the correct time of the actual ceremony on the invitations as his parents had dictated.
As they waltzed in front of 200 unhappy guests, a chime among the pile of presents sounds above the music and through a large piece of wrapping paper.
Imagine an antique shop where several clocks hang on the wall. Their ticking is a swarm of metal and wooden clicks out of sync but still in rhythm. The noise would drive anyone else insane, but the shopkeeper finds the rhythm comforting. He dusts all the shelves and vases and tables and chairs daily. He polishes fragile pieces with care and repairs scratched and nicks with a steady hand all to the rhythm of his ticking symphony.
“How much can I get for this?” asked a man rolling in a dolly.
The shopkeeper turned from his dusting and observed the clock being wheeled into his shop. The clock chimed.
