The door chimed as it was opened.

“Ja?” said the old man hunched over a dark wooden desk without turning around. “How can I help you, mein herr?”

The young man with the impatient face was taken aback a little with the calm firmness in the voice he just heard. He fumbled in his pocket and held out his right hand.

“It’s my father’s old pocket watch. How long will it take you to fix it?” There was an unabashed urgency in the voice.

The watchmaker stood up and turned around slowly. He lowered his spectacles, looked thoroughly at the young man and gave a weak smile.

“Gut, gut! It must have seen many years go by.” His face remained unchanged but the flicker of excitement in the old watchmaker’s eyes was unmistakable.

The young man got visibly upset. “Look, I don’t have much time. Can you fix this or not?” A clear American accent.

“Ja ja! Na klar! But I need to take a look first” The watchmaker stretched out his hand, still waiting for the man to make a move.

“Here,” the young man almost slammed the watch in the watchmaker’s hand, “Now tell me how long. I have places to be.”

“It must come willingly, mein herr!” replied the watchmaker, his fingers slowly wrapping around the watch in his palm like it was a tiny hapless bird. He let out a small gasp almost immediately.

“A Joseph. Haven’t seen these in a long while.”

The watchmaker turned back to his desk and sat down. It was a busy desk full of tools of all sizes and shapes. Most of them looked as old as the watchmaker himself. One could tell they had served the watchmaker well.

The watchmaker’s shop was located in one of the inner streets of old Wien. The young man had stumbled upon it by chance – well sort of. He was not the sentimental sort. His wife had found the watch in her father-in-law’s study after the funeral, saw it wasn’t running, and had made him promise to get it fixed. And as much as he hated running such errands, he didn’t want to upset his wife; life was easier when she was happy. She had found some details and told him the best place to get it fixed was in Wien as the watch was made in Austria. So on their trip there – which happened shortly afterwards (which he did not think was a coincidence) – he grudgingly made his way to the old part of the city. The hotel concierge seemed quite confident it was the place most likely to have a watchmakers shop. After taking the u-bahn to the outer perimeter of the Innere Stadt, he had started walking through the stoned paved streets and was about to give up when he saw the old watchmaker’s shop.

“What a splendid timepiece!” said the watchmaker slowly in his German accent, “your father had good taste.”

“He always did have time for such things, for sure,” replied the man in a sarcastic tone, “This watch was passed down by my grandpa. So I guess grandpa gets the credit.”

Outside the shop, there appeared to be an uptick of people walking by.

“Ja! Come, take a look,” the watchmaker beckoned.

“Look just tell me how long it will take you,” was what the young man wanted to say. Instead, he found himself beside the desk looking down at the pocket watch he had handed over. Only now he was looking at a weird – but mesmerizing – mechanical contraption with moving gears showing from underneath gold plates decorated with stunning etched patterns and dotted with shining blue jewels, all inside the small round watch case.

“Time is a beautiful thing, mein herr,” said the watchmaker, “always flowing, unbound like water in a river. Verstehen sie?”

The usually impatient young man was now fully immersed, watching how the gears kept moving in rhythm.

“Just like the wheels on this watch. Once they are in motion, there is no beginning or end. Ja?” the watchmaker continued.

“It is beautiful,” the man agreed, “maybe my father was onto something.”

A distant faint voice carried from somewhere: was ist passiert?

“Fathers have a way about them,” said the watchmaker in a quieter voice.

“So is it fixed?” asked the man.

“It was never broken. It just needed to be wound, mein herr.” The old watchmaker sounded half asleep now.

A voice from somewhere not far away: wer ist das?

“As long as it’s wound, it will keep working.”

The young man could hear the watch ticking now, clearer than before. “Do I owe you anything?”

“Nein, nein! Just look after it well.” The watchmaker had reinstalled the cover and handed the watch back to the young man.

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate it.” The young man felt calm and while it was odd, he shrugged it off and pocketed the watch. “Good bye!”

“Good bye, mein herr. May the gods of time be merciful on you.” The watchmaker was hunched over his desk, just like when the young man had entered.

As he got out of the shop, the young man felt satisfied and happy. He had come here just to keep his wife happy but now, strangely, felt good about coming. Like a burden had been lifted of his shoulders. For the first time since the funeral he found himself thinking about his father. He clutched the watch in his pocket.

As he walked, he could see some people had gathered just around the corner from the shop. He made his way over, curious to see what was going on. Reaching the edge of the nearly perfect circle of people, he peeked over the shoulder of the man ahead of him.

He saw himself lying motionless on the cobblestones in the middle of the road, his father’s pocket watch nestled neatly on the palm of his right hand.

“Tick, tock!”