Finished
He left.
The second hand trembled. The minute hand shivered. The hour hand, stiff as a bone that had forgotten how to bend, inched forward.
The second hand stopped. The minute hand locked. The hour hand refused to budge.
He had tried everything. A repairman, then a specialist, then a physicist who muttered about "localized temporal hysteresis" and never came back. He had shouted at the clock, pleaded with it, taken a hammer to the glass—the glass did not break. He had sat before it for three straight days, watching, waiting for a single tick. The clock gave him nothing.
Version: Final