Where does all the time go?

The clock switched from 12:37 to 12:38. Another minute was gone. It was sad, really, to see a minute with so much promise disappear as all the others had. Where do the used up minutes go? I couldn’t bear to watch another minute fall to his fate and so rolled over and tried to shield my face with a pillow.

“Good news Mr. 12:37. It turns out, nothing of importance has happened on your watch and we will not be needing a statement. Have a pleasant journey. I hear the black holes are charming this time of year,” the master of time said in a jovial voice belaying the fact of dismissal.

“But wait sir, I’ve still got a little tick in my tock,” the minute pleaded. “With a bit of coloring and low light, I could be used again, perhaps in the Fives. After all, no one cares what a minutes looks like at five in the morning.”

The master of time just waved good-bye, unwilling to waste even another second on the poor minute.