It was 7:45 pm when the clock stopped.
He walked through his almost empty house, strode past the moving boxes and out the door, out onto the quiet little street where nothing moved. The neighbors were all indoors, hiding from the chilly evening. The sun had been setting, but it stopped with the clock at 7:45 pm, half hidden by the horizon.
He walked past the ‘For Sale’ sign in his lawn, got into his car and drove down the quiet little street where nothing moved. He turned and drove down another quiet little street where nothing moved. And again. And when he began to wonder why all of the quiet little streets were so still a woman appeared in the passenger seat of his car.
“Why did you do it,” she asked.
“Do what?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Take a left here.”
He turned left, onto another quiet little street where nothing moved.
“I got tired, so I decided to go for a ride. People do this stuff all the time.”
“I’m not talking about the car ride. Turn right.”
He turned right, began driving down the quiet boulevard where nothing moved. He checked the dashboard clock and it read 7:45 pm. He looked around and saw the hollow shops and empty sidewalks. He glanced further down the street and saw an ambulance, sitting still in the quiet dusk light. It was the only other vehicle he’d seen since the clock stopped.
“Who are you? How did you even get into my car,” he asked.
She glanced at him questioningly before saying: “I’m here to help you get through this. You’re really just taking a car ride?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what you think is going on. Where do I turn?”
“Keep going straight. That ambulance didn’t mean anything to you?”
“I think it’s weird that it was just sitting in the middle of the street. I think it’s weird that I haven’t seen anyone since I left the house, besides you.”
They sat in silence for awhile, and he drove straight down the quiet boulevard where nothing moved.
After some time passed he checked the clock. It still read 7:45 pm.
“Why aren’t the clocks moving?” She ignored him.
“Pull over there, grab a newspaper.”
He got out of the car and checked the front page on one of the papers. He saw the headline: ‘Local Grocer Goes Bankrupt’.
He got back in the car and gave her the paper.
“That doesn’t change anything for you?”
“No, it doesn’t. Why would it?”
“You’re different. It’s been awhile since I met someone like you. Just keep driving for now.”
He drove. He drove until the quiet boulevard became a quiet highway where nothing moved. He saw a billboard silently announcing the arrival of an international grocery store in town. He couldn’t understand why, but he didn’t like the billboard.
“Take this exit”
He took the exit.
“Pull into that parking lot.”
He pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. The sign in front was faded and gray, but he could still read ‘John Pearson’s Groceries’.
“Get out of the car.”
He got out and stood, waiting. After awhile he figured the woman had no more instructions for him, so he walked to the front of the store. There was a sign plastered across the wide window that read ‘For Rent’. The inside was dark, but he could see the long empty shelves that once carried most of this neighborhood’s food.
“The grocery store in the billboard ran the Pearson fellow out of business, didn’t it,” he asked when he returned to his seat in the car, “he’s the one from the newspaper?”
“Let’s go to your house. I think your ride is over.”
He started the ignition and drove back down the quiet highway where nothing moved. He glanced at the clock. 8 pm.
“The clock moved! Look!”
The woman wasn’t in the passenger seat. Alone in his car, he quietly drove on until the quiet highway became a quiet boulevard.
At 7:55 the quiet boulevard was filled with the shrieking of a siren, the stillness was destroyed when the ambulance tore past him.
He followed it, turning left onto a little street filled with the ambulance’s scream, then right onto another. Then he turned again. And again.
7:50 pm. He parked behind the ambulance and got out of his car. The paramedics had done the same, but instead of going into his home they stood perfectly still, staring at the house. He walked past the ‘For Sale’ sign in his lawn and through his front door. He walked past the moving boxes, down the hall, into his study. He glanced at the clock. 7:40. He could see himself, sitting at the desk with a pistol in his hand. And then it came back to him.
Using his life savings to buy his own grocery store. Taking a loan to buy a big new house. Being successful-- at first.
“It was working out so well. It was so perfect. What went wrong?”
The one at the desk shrugged. The one standing remembered.
Hearing about the international grocery store chain opening a branch in his down. Watching his store empty, week by week, until no one shopped from him anymore. Seeing the unpaid and unpayable bills stacking up.
“I failed? I failed. And I can’t fix it. Nothing I can do to make it better.”
He looked at the clock. 7:45 pm. The one at the desk was gone, but the woman was standing by the door.
“We can go when you’re ready.”
So he sat down, put the pistol in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
