Clockwork

I track it all

People, sitting at their desks hunched over as I watch them work at their computers, typing loudly on the keyboard with their twitching fingers

I only have hands, three of them

One for the hour, one for the minutes, and one for the seconds, keeping track of all the time ticking away

Humans, what strange creatures

Every five minutes or so, I spot at least one of their gazes upon me, different expressions on their faces

When one set leaves for the night, other come in clean, still checking on me, although less often

They all stress themselves about the time, going so far as to create me and my brethren

I would laugh at them it I had a mouth

I never worry about what my face says, knowing it might be a human concept and nothing more

So I hang on from a nail on the wall alone, my gears harmoniously working together as their time passes by