How?
294 Words
Alden’s expression softened. He took the watch and examined it. “This is old. Beautiful craftsmanship.” He paused. “But tampering with time is not without cost.”
“I don’t care,” Leo said. “Please.”
The clockmaker nodded and disappeared into the back. The boy waited, his heart pounding in rhythm with the ticking clocks. When Alden returned, he placed the repaired pocket watch in Leo’s hands.
“It will give you one hour,” Alden said. “No more, no less. Use it wisely.”
Leo clutched the watch tightly and ran home. That night, under the glow of a flickering lamp, he turned the watch’s hands backward. A strange hum filled the air, and suddenly, he was in his father’s study, the scent of pipe smoke and leather-bound books surrounding him.
“Dad?” he whispered.
His father looked up from his desk, surprised but smiling. “Leo? What are you doing up so late?”
The boy threw his arms around him, tears streaming down his face. “I missed you.”
They talked for what felt like a lifetime. Leo told him everything he hadn’t before—how much he loved him, how much he missed him, and how he’d try to be strong. His father listened patiently, his warmth as comforting as ever.
When the hour ended, Leo found himself back in his room, clutching the pocket watch. It was silent now, its magic spent. But Leo wasn’t sad. The weight in his chest had lifted, replaced by a bittersweet peace.
The next day, Leo returned to the shop, but the clockmaker and his store were gone, as if they had never been there. Only the faint echo of ticking remained, carried on the breeze.
- Writer
