The Timer That Counted Up

I noticed my timer was wrong when I was six. Everyone else had neat red numbers

floating a few inches above their heads, ticking down second by second.

Parents used them like excuses—five more minutes, look at the clock. Teachers pretended

not to see them. Kids compared theirs on the playground the way previous generations compared

height. Mine didn’t tick down. It counted up. 00:00:06… 00:00:07…

00:00:08… I asked my mother why my number was broken. She went pale, then smiled too

hard and told me it was probably just lagging. That night, she cried behind

her bedroom door while my timer kept climbing. By the time I was eighteen,