At one time, there was another horse on the clock, but it fell in love with the chime and they ran off together, so the clock no longer keeps time. The horse that remains behind conceals his broken heart and keeps the ball ready in case anyone wants to play. Sekhmet awaits the desert breezes and the return of the rain.
"How does it begin?" The big hand asked the little hand.
"With laughter," said the little hand, "but it always ends in tears."