I hate my little piece of plastic.
Staring at it. Waiting for it to sing me a song.
Like my whole life hangs on what it has to say.
Or not say.
I would be fine with the faintest beep.
But it sits, silently staring back at me.
I hate that it said 7:35 and now 7:36.
That minute was far too long.
Without a sound.
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