The Hourglass Empties

I stand at the bottom of the hourglass, with my back to the wall. The sand rushes past, hour after hour, day after day, but I cannot feel it. The sand is warm, like where my hands used to be. I run them through the glass, feeling only the vibrations of something much smaller. Something that once filled me, now empties me. A small glass holds a lot of sand.

I do not know what time it is. No clock or watch tells me. The hourglass does not seem to tick at all. It does not keep time in any way that I can understand.