The scurrying of fishes as the watch ticks.

Last tick,

Last sigh,

Last puff.

His last early morning,

His last breathe,

His last cigarette.

3:35 it read for the last time.

The watch's hands' last movement,

His hand's last movement.

The last sound of the breeze,

His last gentle sigh.

The cigarette light dimming,

His own light slowly dying.

The watch on the kitchen counter tells something deeper than just the time,

The watch reads 3:35.

Even the dead tell stories.