Dandelion Wine (Green Town, #1)

by Ray Bradbury

There was a small sound like an insect in the hay. They both heard it, but they didn’t look at the sound. When Douglas moved his wrist the sound ticked in another part of the haystack. When he brought his arm around on his lap the sound ticked in his lap. He let his eyes fall in a brief flicker. The watch said three o’clock. Douglas moved his right hand stealthily to the ticking, pulled out the watch stem. He set the hands back. Now they had all the time they would ever need to look long and close at the world, feel the sun move like a fiery wind over the sky. But at last John must have felt the bodiless weight of their shadows shift and lean, and he spoke. “Doug, what time is it?” “Two-thirty.” John looked at the sky. Don’t! thought Douglas. “Looks more like three-thirty, four,” said John. “Boy Scout. You learn them things.” Douglas sighed and slowly turned the watch ahead. John watched him do this, silently. Douglas looked up. John punched him, not hard at all, in the arm.