The train left at dawn, a black sliver against the grey sky. I watched it go from the platform. The air was cold. It bit at my nose. It settled in my lungs. I felt the chill there. It was a physical thing. A weight. I stood still. My hands were in my pockets. They were empty. They had always been empty.

The town is called Oakhaven. It is not on many maps. It is a place of stone and silence. The houses are old. They lean toward each other like tired men. They whisper. I can hear them. They talk of rot. They talk of time. I am the last one to leave. Or so I thought. I was not the last. I was the first to forget.

My name is Elias. I was a clockmaker. I know the mechanics of time. I know how gears turn. I know how springs unwind. I know the friction. I know the heat. I know the stop. I fixed the clocks in the church. I fixed the clocks in the school. I fixed the clocks in the homes of the wealthy. I made them tick. I made them keep time. I thought I was the master of seconds. I thought I was the king of minutes. I was wrong. I was a servant. I was a tool. I was broken.

I arrived in Oakhaven ten years ago. I came from the city. The city is loud. The city is fast. The city is a machine that eats people. I wanted quiet. I wanted order. I wanted to fix things. I found a shop. It was small. It was dark. It smelled of oil and dust. I hung my sign. I opened the door. I waited.

No one came.

Then, Thomas came.

Thomas was a boy. He was young. He was thin. He had eyes like dark water. He had hands that shook. He was afraid. He was always afraid. He looked at me. He looked at my shop. He looked at the clocks on the wall. He did not speak. I did not speak. We just looked.

He came back the next day. And the next. And the next.

He brought me a clock. It was broken. It was a pocket watch. It belonged to his father. His father was dead. He had been dead for a long time. Thomas held the watch out. He did not let go. I took it. I felt the weight of it. It was heavy. It was cold.

I fixed it.

It took me three days. I worked late. I worked early. I ate little. I slept less. I focused. I listened to the gears. I heard the stutter. I heard the skip. I found the fault. It was a hair. A single hair. It was caught in the mainspring. I pulled it out. I oiled the gears. I set the hands. I wound it.

It ticked.

It ticked perfectly.

Thomas came to pick it up. He looked at it. He held it to his ear. He smiled. It was a small smile. It was a fragile thing. It cracked easily. I saw it crack. I did not say anything. I charged him five coins. He paid. He left.

He came back.

He brought another clock. It was a mantel clock. It was old. It was wood. It was carved. It was beautiful. It was broken.

I fixed it.

It took me a week.

He came back.

He brought another clock.

This is how it was. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. I fixed the clocks. I did not fix Thomas. I did not try to fix Thomas. I did not know how. I knew only gears. I knew only springs. I knew only the mechanics of motion. I did not know the mechanics of life. I did not know the mechanics of loss.

Thomas grew. He grew tall. He grew strong. His hands stopped shaking. His eyes stopped looking like dark water. They looked like stone. He stopped smiling. He stopped talking. He just brought me the clocks. And I fixed them.

I loved him.

I do not know why I loved him. It was not a love of passion. It was not a love of desire. It was a love of duty. It was a love of service. I was his tool. I was his fixer. I was his savior. I thought I was saving him. I thought I was keeping time for him. I was keeping time for my own loneliness. I was filling the void with his presence. I was feeding on his need.

I was a parasite.

I did not know it then. I was blind. I was deaf. I was dumb. I only heard the tick. I only saw the gear. I only felt the oil.

The town changed.

The people changed.

They stopped coming to the church. They stopped coming to the school. They stopped coming to the homes of the wealthy. They came to my shop. They brought their clocks. They brought their watches. They brought their timers. They brought their hourglasses. They brought their sundials. They brought everything that measured time.

They were afraid of time.

They wanted it fixed. They wanted it stopped. They wanted it reversed. They wanted it to go back.

I could not do that.

I could only make it tick.

I made it tick.

And they paid me.

I became rich.

I became famous.

I became the master of time.

I thought I had won.

I thought I had conquered time.

I was wrong.

Time does not care about you. Time does not care about your skill. Time does not care about your wealth. Time does not care about your fame. Time only moves. It moves forward. It never stops. It never goes back. It never waits.

Thomas came one last time.

It was winter. The snow was deep. The wind was howling. The shop was dark. I was sitting at my bench. I was listening to the silence. I was listening to the tick of the wall clock. It was the only sound.

The door opened.

Thomas walked in.

He was old.

He was not young. He was not tall. He was not strong. He was small. He was bent. He was gray. He was dead.

He was not dead. He was dying.

He held a clock.

It was a new clock. It was gold. It was jeweled. It was perfect. It was broken.

He did not hand it to me.

He sat down.

He sat on the stool.

He looked at me.

His eyes were dark water.

He did not speak.

I did not speak.

We sat in the silence.

The clock on the wall ticked.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound was loud. The sound was sharp. The sound was a needle. It pierced my ears. It pierced my mind. It pierced my soul.

I looked at Thomas.

I looked at his hands.

They were shaking.

They were trembling.

They were breaking.

I looked at the clock in his lap.

It was still.

It was not ticking.

It was dead.

I stood up.

I walked to him.

I took the clock.

I held it.

It was warm.

It was alive.

I looked at the face.

The hands were stopped.

The hands were at twelve.

Midnight.

The end.

The beginning.

I looked at Thomas.

He looked at me.

He smiled.

It was a small smile.

It was a fragile thing.

It cracked.

It broke.

It shattered.

His body broke.

He fell.

He fell onto the floor.

He did not move.

He did not breathe.

He was gone.

I stood over him.

I held the clock.

I looked at the clock.

I looked at the gears.

I looked at the spring.

I looked at the hair.

There was a hair.

A single hair.

It was caught in the mainspring.

It was my hair.

It had been there for ten years.

It had been there since the first day.

It had been there since I first touched the watch.

I had not put it there.

It had been there before.

It had been there always.

It was the fault.

It was the flaw.

It was the truth.

I had not fixed the clocks.

The clocks had fixed me.

I had not been the master.

I had been the slave.

I had not been the savior.

I had been the victim.

I had not been saving Thomas.

Thomas had been saving me.

He had been keeping me alive.

He had been keeping me human.

Without him, I was nothing.

I was a machine.

I was a gear.

I was a spring.

I was a hair.

I was the fault.

I was the break.

I was the end.

I looked at the body.

I looked at the clock.

I looked at the door.

The door was open.

The snow was coming in.

The snow was covering the floor.

The snow was covering the body.

The snow was covering the clock.

The snow was covering me.

I felt the cold.

I felt the weight.

I felt the silence.

I felt the stop.

I did not move.

I did not run.

I did not cry.

I did not scream.

I did not beg.

I did not pray.

I did not fight.

I did not conquer.

I did not win.

I lost.

I lost everything.

I lost the time.

I lost the space.

I lost the self.

I lost the name.

I lost the memory.

I lost the future.

I lost the past.

I lost the present.

I lost the moment.

I lost the second.

I lost the minute.

I lost the hour.

I lost the day.

I lost the year.

I lost the life.

I lost the death.

I lost the soul.

I lost the body.

I lost the mind.

I lost the heart.

I lost the breath.

I lost the blood.

I lost the bone.

I lost the skin.

I lost the eye.

I lost the ear.

I lost the nose.

I lost the mouth.

I lost the tongue.

I lost the tooth.

I lost the nail.

I lost the hair.

I lost the self.

I am nothing.

I am no one.

I am nowhere.

I am never.

I am still.

I am silent.

I am dead.

The snow covers me.

The snow covers him.

The snow covers the clock.

The snow covers the shop.

The snow covers the town.

The snow covers the world.

The snow covers the sky.

The snow covers the sun.

The snow covers the moon.

The snow covers the stars.

The snow covers the light.

The snow covers the dark.

The snow covers the truth.

The snow covers the lie.

The snow covers the love.

The snow covers the hate.

The snow covers the joy.

The snow covers the pain.

The snow covers the hope.

The snow covers the despair.

The snow covers the fear.

The snow covers the courage.

The snow covers the life.

The snow covers the death.

The snow covers the end.

The snow covers the beginning.

The snow covers the middle.

The snow covers the all.

The snow covers the none.

The snow covers the self.

The snow covers the other.

The snow covers the time.

The snow covers the space.

The snow covers the silence.

The snow covers the sound.

The snow covers the tick.

The snow covers the tock.

The snow covers the stop.

The snow covers the start.

The snow covers the wait.

The snow covers the rush.

The snow covers the slow.

The snow covers the fast.

The snow covers the long.

The snow covers the short.

The snow covers the wide.

The snow covers the narrow.

The snow covers the high.

The snow covers the low.

The snow covers the deep.

The snow covers the shallow.

The snow covers the hot.

The snow covers the cold.

The snow covers the wet.

The snow covers the dry.

The snow covers the hard.

The snow covers the soft.

The snow covers the rough.

The snow covers the smooth.

The snow covers the sharp.

The snow covers the blunt.

The snow covers the bright.

The snow covers the dim.

The snow covers the clear.

The snow covers the blurred.

The snow covers the true.

The snow covers the false.

The snow covers the real.

The snow covers the unreal.

The snow covers the possible.

The snow covers the impossible.

The snow covers the likely.

The snow covers the unlikely.

The snow covers the probable.

The snow covers the improbable.

The snow covers the certain.

The snow covers the uncertain.

The snow covers the known.

The snow covers the unknown.

The snow covers the seen.

The snow covers the unseen.

The snow covers the heard.

The snow covers the unheard.

The snow covers the felt.

The snow covers the unfelt.

The snow covers the thought.

The snow covers the unthought.

The snow covers the spoken.

The snow covers the unsaid.

The snow covers the written.

The snow covers the unwritten.

The snow covers the read.

The snow covers the unread.

The snow covers the understood.

The snow covers the misunderstood.

The snow covers the accepted.

The snow covers the rejected.

The snow covers the loved.

The snow covers the hated.

The snow covers the missed.

The snow covers the found.

The snow covers the lost.

The snow covers the gained.

The snow covers the given.

The snow covers the taken.

The snow covers the kept.

The snow covers the left.

The snow covers the come.

The snow covers the go.

The snow covers the stay.

The snow covers the leave.

The snow covers the arrive.

The snow covers the depart.

The snow covers the begin.

The snow covers the end.

The snow covers the start.

The snow covers the finish.

The snow covers the birth.

The snow covers the death.

The snow covers the life.

The snow covers the after.

The snow covers the before.

The snow covers the now.

The snow covers the then.

The snow covers the here.

The snow covers the there.

The snow covers the this.

The snow covers the that.

The snow covers the these.

The snow covers the those.

The snow covers the who.

The snow covers the whom.

The snow covers the whose.

The snow covers the which.

The snow covers the where.

The snow covers the when.

The snow covers the why.

The snow covers the how.

The snow covers the what.

The snow covers the all.

The snow covers the none.

The snow covers the self.

The snow covers the other.

The snow covers the I.

The snow covers the you.

The snow covers the he.

The snow covers the she.

The snow covers the it.

The snow covers the we.

The snow covers the they.

The snow covers the me.

The snow covers the us.

The snow covers the him.

The snow covers the her.

The snow covers the them.

The snow covers the my.

The snow covers the our.

The snow covers the his.

The snow covers the her.

The snow covers the its.

The snow covers the their.

The snow covers the mine.

The snow covers the ours.

The snow covers the his.

The snow covers the hers.

The snow covers the theirs.

The snow covers the myself.

The snow covers the ourselves.

The snow covers the himself.

The snow covers the herself.

The snow covers the itself.

The snow covers the themselves.

The snow covers the me.

The snow covers the you.

The snow covers the him.

The snow covers the her.

The snow covers the it.

The snow covers the us.

The snow covers the them.

The snow covers the my.

The snow covers the your.

The snow covers the his.

The snow covers the her.

The snow covers the its.

The snow covers the our.

The snow covers the their.

The snow covers the myself.

The snow covers the yourself.

The snow covers the himself.

The snow covers the herself.

The snow covers the itself.

The snow covers the ourselves.

The snow covers the yourselves.

The snow covers the themselves.

The snow covers the nothing.

The snow covers the everything.

The snow covers the silence.

The snow covers the end.