Clark sat there staring at the clock, tapping his foot nervously, begging for time to move faster. In the back of his mind, his mother’s voice echoed that a watched pot never boiled… but he’d literally never seen the second hand tick by so slowly. He huffed and ran a hand over his face. He’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, but he was wired already. He’d forced himself to stay in bed until the sunrise, but it was still too early to go into the Star.
I could be wrong, but is Clark just a wee bit anxious to get this day started?
