You felt it.

The little pull to hurry. To grab it before it was gone.

There was nothing there. No spot, no price, nothing you could have won or lost. I built the whole feeling out of an empty clock, and it still reached you, somewhere behind the ribs.

So the feeling was never in the clock. It lives in you, and it runs most of the day, and something out in the world keeps it wound. Most of what you are hurrying toward is a countdown with nothing behind it.

Nothing is running out. It wasn't today, and it mostly isn't the rest of the time either. You can have the afternoon back. It was always yours.

Leeloo