Eastern Standard

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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