At eleven every night, Earnest wound the clock before climbing into bed with his beloved Mavis. It was a wedding present and in fifty years hadn’t lost a second. One night he said ‘Look after it won't you’. She couldn’t wake him in the morning.
At eleven last night, Mavis wound the clock and adjusted the hands. It started losing time after Earnest went. She touched a finger to her lips, then to its face. ‘See you soon’ she whispered.
This morning her helper noticed the clock had stopped at eleven-o-three. Mavis was in bed, she’d passed away. In her hand was a clock key, on her face a smile.
Friday Fictioneers and to Jennifer Pendergast for her photo prompt.