The hands read correctly.
Her living room is right.
"Did you fix the time?" she asks
like such a thing is feasible.
"No," he says
with grapefruit on his breath
and ruffled hair.
"Twice a day
even broken clocks
can pull it off,"
as he tugs away the blanket
they've been hiding in
all weekend.
The forecast called for snow
though windows seem so far.
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