I never wanted to run this damned clock shop. When I was a more fresh and vibrant man I believed I would have more time. No such luck. I witnessed the last of my luck pale faced in a hole, and then I shoveled dirt on top. Funny, this discarded box even triggers me.     The sunlight gleams through wide oak windows with faded crimson shutters. The dry warmth hugs my body, and reminds of a similar sense of security. A long forgotten comfort. The box wears a thick coat of dust which it racks on my hands. Silently and slowly I reveal a note. 
"Don't fix me." It reads. Beneath it rests a simple silver pocket watch. I recognize it as my father's when I was young. Immediately I drop the box with a thud as it plants into the floor. I had no idea he kept this all these years. 
When I was around 16 or 17 years old, I was a spiteful and angry child. My father and I got into it over anything and everything. Anything small as spilled milk could lead to him jumping down my back, and I was never one to be walked on. I don't even remember what was said back and forth but both our voices had gone hoarse. In the end I grabbed the pocket watch and threw it against the wall. Hoping with all my heart to shatter it into a million pieces along with your heart. 
Knowing that wasn't enough I even spat through gritted teeth "I don't love you." I thought I was tough moving out on my own. I thought I was strong surviving through two jobs, university, and my girlfriend. Most of all I thought I would never want to see you again. But here I am in the cramped back room of your old clock shop with the same damn pocket watch.
"Don't fix me." How dare you? How dare you try telling me what to do, even from the grave. In a dash I scurried around the building grabbing a few tools here and there. The damage was minimal only the glass face had been cracked. In minutes I completed the task. Quickly wiping my hands I felt the pain return.
Tick, tick, tick, the seconds on the watch began to mesmerize me. Each one so quick, tick, tick, tick. The pit of my stomach rises and falls in it's time. I think I'm going to be sick, tick, tick, tick. I will never get that time back. You'll never know you're missed. Tick, tick, tick.