“oh what count does the Lunchteller have!”, I demand the answer, scooting my sloopseat over to the ornate, cobwebbed dial. i squint at its tally. “12 of Lunch!”
both its hands lurch skyward, lunchward, up high to the twelfth lunch. of the two dozen lunches it can tell, this lunch is special: it’s a lunch to have my delicious, freshly-cooked Time