S'cuse me, do you have the time?

This watch: well, it was a present. Valentine's 2003. Remember where you were, then? I do. I get to think of that, and of her, and of time every time I look to see what time it happens to be. The watch, a silver one, was resting in my desk for a long time, when, the other week I decided to fix the band, have a new battery put in. It works now. I guess you can say we've been re-united.

There's another watch I sometimes wear. A digital one. It beeps on the hour. A girl gave me that watch, too. She said it was to remember her. I think her name was Kjerstin. I doubt that's how you spell it, but I remember her. I do when I where that watch.

When it beeps, and like I said it does on the hour, I'm reminded that another hour has past. I told that to girl once, said it was a reminder that I was alive. Was it a good hour? she sometimes wanted to know when were were lying around being reminded of the hour. It usually was, I remember.

I rembember my grandfather. He died almost two-years ago. When he died, I put his watch on my wrist and wore it for a while. It isn't fancy or anything, simple, it kept good time. And I wore it, slipped in on my wrist until the battery died. People, like batteries, die. I wrote that in high school, when my English teacher asked me to write a simile. It's kinda silly.

That's something about time, you're reminded of it through people in many ways. If you're looking at your wrist, listening to the beep, recalling past events, you're taking up your time, mine.

And now it's time for me to go.