Comfort is working on a silent broken clock, working with the infinitely small pieces, fitting them together with his practiced hand. Love is satisfaction of a finished job, a clock smoothly working in his hands, ticking away the gentle time.

Or so he thinks.

Then she enters his world and he sees there is more outside to this existence than what he previously thought. There is more to love and comfort than clocks. There is kisses and embraces. There is Alice.

Now work is loneliness, a room that's empty and dim. People come and go but all they want is for another clock to be fixed. No one speaks to the mortician, no one cares for the mortician and in turn the mortician turns from the world and hates them.

Except for her.

She enters his world like a light in the darkness, a spot of something great, and promising and beautiful in this empty world. She fills his life with something he didn't even know was missing.

The clocks seem to tick a new sound. Alice, Alice, Alice. It's all he hears when she's not there. His skin remembers her touch even when she's gone. Most of all his heart (or clock, as it is) remembers the slew of feelings she brings up in him. Swirling, warm feelings. Love.

Alice enters the room.

"I'm back, Julius," she says, with a smile.

He doesn't quite smile back. That's not his way. But he does nod and feel happy just knowing that she's there.