Carefully he set the latest top hat on the glass shelf, examining its reflection. Black. Silk Lining. A thick ribbon. In this style, 10/6, his mind whispered. It was exactly identical to all its counterparts lined up beside it. Absolutely useless.
Turning automatically to the telescope trained on the house across the street, he sighed. She was at a friend's house tonight. He would have to wait before he saw her again. The kettle was shrieking from the kitchen, anyways.
Time for tea. Again.
He carried the white china cup into the living room and reclined on a sofa. An ironic grin turned up the corner of his mouth as his eye fell on the book on his coffee table. It opened to the same old spot as soon as he picked it up. "A Mad Tea Party," indeed.
"Well, I'd hardly finished the first verse," said the Hatter, "when the Queen bawled out 'He's murdering the time! Off with his head!'"
"How dreadfully savage!" exclaimed Alice.
"And ever since that," the Hatter went on in a mournful tone, "he [Time] won't do a thing I ask! It's always six o'clock now."
"You were close, Mr. Carroll," he whispered. "But it's closer to the truth now than it was then."
His eyes shifted upward to the elaborate clock on his wall. 8:15. Always 8:15. For twenty-eight years, nothing had ever changed. Nothing ever would. Slowly he sipped his tea, watching the frozen clock, daydreaming as he stared at its hands, losing himself in memories as the minute hand ticked down one notch.
He jumped off the couch, eyes glued on the clock. The tea he had spilt had a full minute to seep into his carpet as he stared, unwilling to blink, until finally the clock ticked down to 8:17.
A grin crept slowly across Jefferson's face.
...
A/N - To be continued...