Clock of the talk

Previously

…My lost melody wasn’t just a personal tragedy; it was a symptom, a quiet scream of a world unraveling, a world where even the most cherished parts of oneself could simply… vanish. And as I ventured deeper into the twilight, the thought that my lost tune might be irrevocably gone, that this hollow ache in my chest was my new reality, settled upon me like a shroud. A profound, all-encompassing sadness, a sadness that felt as old as the tick-tock of that accursed clock. The silence within me was deafening, a vast and empty chamber where music used to reside. And the goo, a sticky reminder of my folly, seemed to cling to my soul.