Fletcher came to a stop in a church’s parking lot. Although he had never been here before, he felt a comfort akin to familiarity in the ceasing of movement. The glassy dust all over the tires of his car glimmered more faintly under the light of a street lamp. Fletcher, trying to relax in the silence of his still car, became aware of the ticking of his watch. He brought his wrist up to his face only to remember that his watch couldn’t tell time; under the shiny lens, where notches or numbers that indicate time should be, there was a portrait of outer space. In the portrait lied two celestial bodies: Lepus and Sirius. As of currently, the minute hand was making its way towards Sirius’s starry nose.

Fletcher could not bear the noise. The sound of the tires rubbing against the road had kept the burdensome ticking to a quiet whimper; but it was now Fletcher quietly whimpering in this church parking lot.

Fletcher accepted that the watch was only going to continue ticking, so he turned on his car to drown out the noise. Looking out of the parking lot, he saw the road that led back into Baker’s Mill. Fletcher let out a deep groan, turned on his car, and decided to head home—a new way, on roads void of glass.

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