Instead he moves to face the wall and tepid trickle of water, ruefully gnawing at the crust of his last black-seed cake.
Trying to remember how many days had receded since his descent into the Shallows.
He regrets not pocketing the locket-clock in his haste.
In the Below, where neither sun, nor moon, nor star give meaning to a travelers progress, a timepiece is useful, if not indispensable.
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A dark, fantastical tale that is intended to unfold a paragraph, or thereabouts, at a time.
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