There was a minute hand of a watch who was in love with the hour hand. It was a one sided love affair because the hour hand never could see the minute hand.
The minute hand chased the hour hand. It was happy for a minute of every hour, when they were together, and the minute hand would imagine leaning forward against the hour hand leaning backwards against the minute hand. Then, that minute would pass, and the minute hand would be forlorn again.
One day, the time on the watch might stop. When it does, would love be requited? Or having had the mere experience of any kind of love would be enough?
They were just hands of a watch.
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