He didn’t build clocks. He shaped moments into mechanical echoes. One tick could rewind a breath. A tock might freeze the last sentence of a conversation. His shop ticked with possibilities, and none of them were for sale.
Customers Paid With Memories
You didn’t need money—just a memory you were willing to part with. In exchange, he gave you a watch that ticked differently. Some ticked slower around sadness. Others paused when you smiled.
Time can’t be kept—but it can be shaped by what we’re ready to lose.
The One Clock He Refused to Sell
It sat behind glass, untouched. It had no hands, no numbers. Just a hum like a heartbeat. Rumor says it held a moment he could never let go of: the last time someone he loved said his name.
