On time

The clock in Grandma's apartment is dying; its second hand fidgets in place. It is endlessly 8:23 here, which Grandma has accepted as fact several times through the day, including at very un-8:23-looking times, AM or PM. This afternoon I broke news of the real time. Her instinct was not to doubt me, nor to doubt the clock, but to wonder how the clock and I could be true at the same time. I tell her that to avoid confusion I'll remove the clock from the wall until we fix it. To this she says Yes, good idea, and soon after returns to bed.