Toby's town has narrow cobblestone streets and an old clock tower humming just above the rooftops. The tower hums. It is a sound that follows you everywhere.
Toby runs through the streets with his arms full of books. His shoes are scuffed from rushing. The clock tower hums. Tick. Tick. Tick. louder with every step.
He ducks into the market square and hides behind wooden crates. The fishmonger splashes water and cries. But the clock hums right through it all. Tick. Tick. Tick. louder.
Toby presses his palms flat against his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut. The clock hums right through his hands. It is everywhere.
Toby climbs the clock tower steps. He stands small against the big stone face and whispers, 'I am here.'
The clock ticks once. Slow. Soft. Gentle. The ticking sounds just like his own breathing.
Toby sits on the warm stone steps. The clock ticks steadily beside him, keeping time with his heartbeat. He unclenches his hands and lets his shoulders drop.
Toby smiles. The cobblestone streets hum along with him. Tick. Tick. Tick. steady and slow.