The Observer
Kabir looked at his watch. The second hand had stopped. He waited, almost expecting it to move if he gave it enough time. It didn’t. Across the office, Rhea was typing. A phone rang near the reception desk. Someone laughed in the conference room. Outside the window, a bus pulled away from the traffic signal. Everything else was moving. Only the watch had fallen silent. Kabir turned his wrist towards the light. The silver case caught the afternoon sun. He held it close to his ear. Nothing. His grandfather had worn the watch for almost forty years. Kabir still remembered his hands winding it every evening, slowly and carefully, as though time could be persuaded to behave. Three days before his grandfather died, he had taken the watch off and placed it in Kabir’s palm. “Take care of it.” Kabir laughed. “I’ll lose it.” “You’ll lose many things,” his grandfather had said. “Don’t lose time.” The memory passed. Kabir looked at the watch again. His chest had begun to tighten. He loosened...