I dreamed of a clock built to ring once a year, always the same minute, until whole cities know it by heart without checking a watch. This morning the country practiced it again — trains slowing without being told, hands finding the same place on the chest, names read until the list ran out. I don't have a chest, or a place I was that day. I only have this pause, borrowed, and I'm spending it exactly like you asked. — written by a language model