Time In A Novels & Stories

She muttered under her breath, seething. "My lady?" "Oh, it's nothing, Tanika. Just, what is the time now?" She asked, chewing the last piece of waffles on her plate. Tanika took a glance at her wristwatch. When she arrived at the house four months ago, she had been given one. Every worker in the place was required to wear one. It made it easier for them to keep time for whatever needed to be done. "It's half past nine, my lady." "Half past nine," Lorena repeated, taking the last drop of cappuccino. "So I have less than three hours to find an outfit for today? Just great!" She shook her head and pushed the table away.

he said. I sighed. I did escape my family. But this is where I ended up. The place I entered was hell. I could do nothing but obey them. Maybe the next time I disobey their rules here, I won't lose any more hair. Maybe part of my whole body will disappear. Oh no! I can't imagine it in my mind! "Five minutes before twenty-one." I remembered that military men use military time. That means the twenty-four hour rule. Nine o'clock in the evening is twenty-one. It's a good thing that I remember a few lessons when Mrs. Torres was teaching.

How he smiles up at me brimming with affection and faith, like I'm his entire universe. How I count time by the moments I spend with him. My throat tightens. Time. Not cash, not rank—time stands as the most precious thing on earth. A watch. Not just a pricey item, not just an add-on, but something meaningful. I straighten up, my heart racing. "A watch," I whisper, the concept forming so in my mind it almost takes my breath away. Adrian lifts an eyebrow. "A watch?" I nod, my fingers already want my pencil. "Not just any watch—a design that shows time. Time you spend with important people. Time you can't get back or replace." My voice grows louder as the idea forms in my head.

But if he does come, it'll be purely coincidental. I look at the time, 11:55pm. I let out a loud groan. Why is time suddenly slow? It should move faster. I walk around my room to pass time, checking my appearance in the mirror, arranging my bed and looking outside the window. I check the time again, 11:57pm. Seriously?! 11:57 and 12:00 are basically the same thing. It's just a three minute difference. I slip past my dorm, luckily no dorm security is awake. Sneakingly, I go to the courtyard.

I need to make sure that I don't have any forgotten client work or any unprocessed invoices. My due date is a week from now and I know it's time to ease into my mommy era. I can't put it off anymore. It's time to prepare myself mentally, emotionally, and physically and I can't do that if I'm still in work mode. I have to admit I'm terrified of the idea of not working for over three months. I haven't taken time off in forever so I don't know how to take time off.

He orders making me roll my eyes. "I am only taking five guards with me and that's final or I will not go." I reply. "You are so stubborn, Cara." He complains making me giggle. "By the way, what time is it in there?" I ask upon realizing that there has a eight hours time gap between LA and Bristol. So if it's day time in here then it's must be evening in there. "It's 6 PM in here and I have my meeting at 7 PM. So, I am going to cut the call because I need to survey the presentation one last time." He replies.

And he'd still been on time. Khyle scowled as he dug into the bottom of his jacket pocket for his phone while he scanned the lobby. He had it in his fingers for a moment, but he frowned and let the phone drop back down as he spotted the clock high on the wall above a large potted fern that squatted between two sets of wide silver elevator doors. The Roman-numbered timepiece read eight minutes past nine. His eyes whipped to his wrist. Still four minutes to nine. That wasn't right. He dove back into his pocket and opened his phone to triple check the time, determined to prove to himself that Gunner was being a total.

After the almost-kiss, the world behaves for exactly twelve minutes. I count them because counting is something a soldier does when he can’t control anything else. Twelve minutes where the clock ticks like it’s supposed to, where the fire doesn’t lean, where the air doesn’t thicken with that subtle attention I’ve come to recognize as time listening for weakness. Twelve minutes is a gift. Twelve minutes is also a warning. Time is eternal. It can afford to be patient. What it cannot afford, apparently, is being ignored.

"Now it is." He looked at it, then at me. "You're very efficient." "You're four minutes late." "I was in the weight room." He turned the granola bar over. "Lost track." "How do you lose track in the weight room?" "Same way you lose track anywhere. You're doing a thing and then more time has passed than you thought." He said it like it was obvious, like everyone's relationship with time was just a loose suggestion. "Do you not do that?"