Time

         "You broke the flow of TIME?”          
“I didn’t mean to,” I said, swinging the broken pendant around. I met her eyes, then turned away quickly. The heat of a million summers couldn’t compare to the fire in her eyes.          
“It is the end of summer!” she shrieked. “I need time to flow properly, you moron!”          
“Don’t call me a moron!” I snapped back. “Gods damn it, Gaia, I am older than you!”          
“Don’t give me that shit!” she fumed. “We are eternal! Age doesn’t mean squat! Especially since you broke time!”          
“I’ll fix it,” I said nonchalantly. “Just give me a couple hours.” I looked down at the broken clock, and said with a snicker, “Or lack thereof.”          
“Tempus,” she growled at me.          
“Oh, take a pill Gaia,” I groaned. “I still have the old version.” I began to root around the folds, and pulled out an hourglass.          
“There!” I declared. “This’ll do for the next little while.” I set down the device, and took a minute to admire the grains falling to the bottom. I began pulling apart the clock, trying to find what went wrong.          
“Tempus,” Gaia sighed. “I wish you would be more careful. You have probably caused innumerable problems for my mortals.”          
“They’ve already got a whole lot of problems, Natura,” I said, throwing an arm around her. “A few more won’t be that big a deal.”          
Gaia heaved a little sigh. “It’s not all their fault.”          
“Are you still blaming yourself, sweetie?” I asked. “We both know you wouldn’t be happy controlling every little thing your children do. And they would not be happy either. You gave them freedom.”          
“But they’re starting to kill each other, Tempus,” she cried. “And themselves.”          
“Hey, hey, not all of them,” I soothed. “They’ll learn to be good.” I picked up a little piece of metal, and bent it back into shape. I set it back in the timepiece, and a resounding tick was let out.          
“They just need a little time.”