The clockmakers gift

Two: Tob

nfusion. She didn't quite know why she was here or why this old man, who looked l

ted, though his stoop gave him an air of frailty. His hands, however, were steady, sure as they adjusted the inner mecha

d, unable to stop herself from speaki

lock. His hands, though aged, were nimble-gentle, yet fi

rning the clock's mechanism to its place

almost a whisper, as if the word

ass, child," he continued. "It lingers. It stays. Everything you've lived-everything you've forgo

lse quickening at the

a purpose. Some mark the beginning of a journey, some measure the moments in between, and some..

s themselves were alive, listening to their conversation. The ticking became

trying to shift the focus away from

pair. I listen. And when a clock has a story i

lena didn't fully understand, but the way he said it felt like a ch

s glinting in the soft light. She found herself drawn to one in particular, a

she asked, her voic

tening. "Ah. That one," he said with a

him in confusi

ow, like a secret. "It's a timepiece-a key, if you will. A ke

ket watch gently from its resting place. "It'

, as though it were calling to her,

"I suspect you've been carrying a certain burden.

what to say. It was as

that?" she asked, her

rface catching the light in sharp, radiant bursts. "Because time remembers," he said simp

ifting beneath the face. But it wasn't the craftsmanship that drew her in-it was the

Elena murmured, her finge

eighing something only he c

u need to see it. You need to go back

knowing why, that this watch was meant for her-meant to reveal something s

oss o