When the clock broke, it was over. Until its tinny cardiac, we’d managed, one set against the other, to advance. I threw it on the cans, north corner. I stayed for what I think were three more days. White noise on the radio. No change. The bulb alone could not make day and night. When walls became a problem, I got out. I had to break the door. It is a day. It still looks like it looked like when it hit. The sea turned gray and silver as hacked lead. The sky was sick with light. The wind collapsed with sound and then was done. My face was white and black, my brain a ball of glass.