It is nightime. I'm on the porch of my house, sittingin an old chair. My left hand holds a lit cigarette. Inmy right hand is a cooking timer. It is set for 30 seconds.

The timer beeps.I look at. When i look up an old man is peering down at me.He opens his mouth as if to begin talking, but instead ofwords, thousands of small black objects fall from his mouth.

Some land in my lap.

I look at them closer, and discover that they are the handsof watches. I look at the old man, hoping for anexplanation.

"Time." he says

"Time what?" I reply, suddenly feeling apprehensive aroundhis huge figure.

"Time." he repeats.

"Time what!?" I return aggravated.

"Time to make the coffee."

Dreamed by: Laura