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when the clock strikes thirteen

by KAREN XIE

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layout JENNIFER JIMENEZ photographer PAIGE MILLER stylists ALEX CAO & SAGE WALKER hmua SARAH STILES model ZION MPEYE

10 SECONDS TO 12, AND I THINK OF NOTHING BUT AGE AND ADAGE. SAY, AREN’T WE ALL PAWNS ON TIME’S GREAT CHESSBOARD?

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IF ALL THAT WAS WILL ONCE BE LOST, HAVE IT TWICE BEEN LOVED, AND THRICE BEEN TAUGHT. I’VE HEARD THE HOURGLASS IS NO FRIEND TO SECOND CHANCES. 50 SECONDS TO 12, AND I DREAM OF A RACE —

THERE IS ME AGAINST CHIMES

AND HANDS ON A FACE.

RUN, RABBIT, RUN! BUT EVERYTHING’S ALL WRONG — WHAT’S LARGE IS NOW SMALL, AND WE’VE LOST SOMETHING VITAL IN THE MIX OF IT ALL.

QUICK, I’M RUNNING OUT OF SAND,

BUT PAWNS ARE BOUND BY LINES

AND LAWS, AND WE’RE TOO MANY

SQUARES FROM WONDERLAND.

10 SECONDS TO 12, AND I SPEAK IN CLICHÉS. ANY LAST WORDS? HOW ABOUT REGRETS? ANYTHING YOU WOULD HAVE DONE A DIFFERENT WAY? THIS PART, I FEAR THE MOST.

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TIME STREAKS BY WITH A DEVIOUS WINK, THERE! THE STRIKE OF 12. CHECKMATE, I THINK.

BUT THERE’S A BEGINNING IN AN END, FOREVER IS NOTHING BUT AN INTERLUDE. SO WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES 13 . . . COULD WE BEGIN AGAIN?

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