The Two clocks
The Two Clocks Way out in a dry, sun-blasted patch of desert—one of those spots where everything blurs together and the heat refuses to chill—there were these two old clocks. Just sitting there. No tracks, no hint that anyone had ever passed by. It was like they’d dropped out of the sky. Just silence, wind, and sand that stretched forever. They didn’t tick anymore. Didn’t really need to. No one was watching. No one had been, probably for ages. No one really knows how they ended up there. But according to some legend, back in the 10th century, an Arab traveler headed out into that brutal wasteland. He carried very little, except two clocks—beautiful, kind of strange for that time. The story says the desert won. He never made it across. His body and whatever he had on him got swallowed by the sand, and over time, only the clocks were left above the surface. Time moved on—way more than anyone could count. The world kept spinning, changing, forgetting. But those clocks? Still there. Not ti...