The Clock Shop (ORIGINAL VERSION)

3

On Wednesday morning, I was super anxious and needed to calm down, so I texted my close friend Angelica if she wanted to get brunch with me. I hadn't seen her in a while so that was a plus to getting my mind off things. We had decided to just go to a local coffee shop and get some drinks and sandwiches.

     "Long time no see, Hannah. What've you been up to?" She smiled. Angelica is a very genuine person who truly cares about me and wants to know about my personal life.

     "Hey, Angelica! It has been a while," I sighed with relief knowing that I could finally talk to someone, "it's been a bumpy road these past few days."

     I was debating whether or not to tell her about The Clock Shop or to just let my mind completely free for an hour or two. I decided I would tell her because she is one of my closest friends.

     "I was fired from that job I had at the mechanic shop down the road, but I found a new job part-time at a clock store a few shops down. I start today," I continued to tell her about the dreams I had had and how confused I am. Then, of course, we talked about what was new in her life.

***

An hour had passed when she had to leave to take over for her husband and look after her kids. I wasn't ready to finish talking to her. This was the first time I had not felt stressed or anxious in months!

     "It was nice meeting with you this morning Hannah," she said with a smile as she reached for her purse and what was left of her coffee. "I hope to see you again soon. Good luck at that new job."

     "Thanks, I'll see you around," I let out a sigh, one that was very noticeable because I could see her frown right after. I tried to smile, "Say hi to your kids for me."

***

As I walked out of the coffee shop, I could see down the street The Clock Shop. A tiny store painted a dark brown color on the outside and inside with big rectangular windows like most of the other shops have.

     The Clock Shop stands out from the other stores. Its antique style and cluttered inside draw your eyes, but not your brain.

     Who knows how long that shop has been there, or if anyone, besides myself, has even set foot inside. It seems like such a random store, but it still feels like it fits perfectly. Each clock is unique, and each is made by hand, who's hands? Who knows, whether they're Mr. Clifton's or maybe some German people's hands, but the clocks are all still pretty. It is a shame we all have our phones to tell us the time, all the time and effort put into those extravagantly detailed clocks and Mr. Clifton's store and all the other antique clock stores like his, are left to collect dust, never to be admired or see a person's place of home.

     That thought makes me sad, not only for those clocks but also thinking that people don't admire the little details like those clocks and the attention to detail on them anymore.

***

I decided to get to the shop about 45 minutes earlier than when I was supposed to be there. It was my first day on the job and I wanted to learn more about the work I will be doing, especially since his interview was very sudden and informal, and also how soon I am starting to work, with probably zero experience of what he wants me to do (besides cleaning).

     "Good afternoon Ms. Mancini, I suppose you are here for a clock now?"

     Had he forgotten? I thought to myself as I smiled awkwardly at him. "No, you said I can start working here today, remember?" Or did I get the day wrong? I panicked for a second, "Is today not Wednesday?"

     Mr. Clifton took a large magnifying glass from a drawer of the small antique desk, "I suppose it is Wednesday," he took looked towards a calendar set to the wrong month, "I never know anymore, a day is a day. Is it October 26th?"

     "Haha, it's alright Mr. Clifton," I reassured him, "It's February 9th."

     "Oh my! It is not what I thought it was," he sighed and set his magnifying glass down into the drawer he took it out from.

     When he got up from his chair, I realized he is a very petite old man. He started to show me the different clocks and occasionally started to ramble about where they came from, and then would start to get into his travels and how he misses being young.

     "Have you made any clocks yourself?" I asked when he paused.

     He let out a little laugh, "I have attempted to make a few, those I keep next to the desk," he paused as if trying to remember the past and what to say next. "I was taught by the best clock makers from the countries I visited. I learned how to make cuckoo clocks from a very wise older man in Germany, and the rest I can't remember."

     I was suddenly more curious about the clocks and if he watched them be made and where each one came from.

***

Until 3:30 pm he showed me everything I needed to know, from cleaning the clocks, and marking down which ones were sold during the day, and how to properly close up the shop.

     So far a normal day, and that's all it ended up being. Nothing strange happened and neither did a situation that I didn't know how to handle.

     Not a single person walked into that clock shop that evening, and so not a single clock was sold. That made me feel that I somehow failed my job; like I let the old man Mr. Clifton down by not selling one of his clocks. But then again, that wasn't my job to go out and convince people to buy them, I just wished people would so I wouldn't have felt bad.