The Distant Whispers
The pocket watch lay open on the velvet mat, its backplate removed, exposing the intricate dance of brass gears that had once kept perfect time. I held the tweezers with a steady hand, though my fingers trembled beneath the surface, a vibration that seemed to originate not in my muscles but in the air itself, a low-frequency hum that had been growing louder since I had first opened the case....
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