The only sound Edmund heard anymore was the chime of a grandfather clock.  He heard bells every hour, on the hour, and nothing more.

He didn’t care much for small talk. To him, it was dull and distasteful. He didn’t mind when it was Mindy, though.

On social occasions, she was his ambassador.  She’d talk to everyone, never missing a name, anniversary, or child’s birthday.  She always just knew the perfect topics of conversation.  He loved that about her.

Edmund wound the clock daily, for the last 36 years, but it was only recently that he noticed its song.

Undelegated, Edmund’s personality became apparent.  His friends were patient, at first, but it didn’t take long for them to grow tired of his moody behavior and shallow bag of anecdotes.  At a party, somebody made a joke about drawing straws, for the displeasure of sitting next to him.

Edmund sipped his tea, and watched the clock.  He watched as the counter-weights touch the floor.  He watched as the pendulum came to a rest. He watched until everything was still.

And there was silence.

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