7
The village clocksmith sold a wall clock with no hands and called it the “Now.”
Shoppers laughed until the grocer hung one above his counter. People who normally checked their watches paused and asked about the fruit instead. The baker put one near the bread, and conversations rose like dough. The teacher borrowed a “Now” for exams, and students stopped timing panic and started answering questions. No one knew whether the town was late or early; they only knew the day felt less sharp around the edges. The clocksmith kept making the usual clocks, but he saved a corner of his window for the handless ones—quiet reminders that not all movement is forward and not all arrivals need hurry.
