Epoch

A grandfather clock, ticks away the seconds from his life, if only he had known she was there. Yet he called out for his beloved wife, she just gazed at him with a saddened stare, as seconds grew into minutes and maddening hours. The tick tock of that clock, echoed monotonously in his mind, he wore his mask all these years. If only head left it all behind, his rugged face dripping with tears, a strong hand made weak by sickness. How he wished that clock stopped ticking, he had only himself to truly blame, here was something his money could not buy. He thought of stabbing the very essence of his fame, shrouded in ignorance not knowing he will die, Blinded by rage he could muster just one more deed. That damned clock fell over and shattered to pieces, the old man cursed it with his last breath, his wife still holding on to his lifeless hand, no one but her mourned his timeless death. It seems the clock never actually did work, so ends the life of the famous clock repair clerk.