Turning the Glass

I hopped onto the cool porcelain edge of the bathroom sink after the quiet walk back from the park. Beside the wooden toothbrush cup stood a little clear sand timer, all its fine blue sand settled at the bottom. Reaching up, I placed both hands on the flat round base and carefully flipped it upside down. With a soft, whispering hiss, a steady thread of sand began to drop through the narrow glass neck. I sat down with my legs dangling over the curved white basin, watching the tiny grains build a perfect, pointed mound below until the last speck fell silent.