Describe This

I look up at the round object, suspended above my creamy white door. Admiring all three of its hands. One short but significant, another longer and black like the first, and the last seems as if it is running in circles around the other two. I listen for its subtle sounds that only the sharpest of ears can hear. "Tick, tick, tick," I watch as one of the hands is continuously in motion, seeming to never run out of energy. The other decides to chase the moving hand, but abruptly stops after the shortest of moments. The other moves so slowly, so slightly, so steadily, that its displacement becomes unnoticeable almost like that of a turtle or slug. I analyze the three hands again, but this time they whisper something to me, "it's time to leave or else you'll be late".