Runaway Sand

I scurried back inside to the quiet study, determined to master the delicate art of timekeeping upon the polished desk. Towering beside an ink bottle stood a miniature brass hourglass. Deciding to measure an interval of pure, motionless composure, I braced my slippers and shoved the upper glass bulb with both hands to invert it. *Clack!* The heavy frame flipped, but the sudden shift in weight made it wobble precariously against a ceramic pen tray. Golden sand cascaded furiously through the narrow neck like a frantic golden whirlwind. I froze, throwing both hands dramatically toward the ceiling in breathless terror as time itself rushed entirely out of my control... *sighhh*.