Like Clockwork

The pitiful chimes of a fifty-two year old grandfather clock rang out in a small studio flat. Two large windows allowed spotlights to stream in from the sleepy town outside, bouncing off of various mirrors and glasses scattered around the dusty space. If you were to follow these paths of light, you would find yourself privy to the few signs of a sole occupant.

A pair of trousers were strewn over the back of a chair, which has been placed next to the sink for some unknown purpose. Perhaps it had something to do with the wet pieces of paper in various colours hung from a line across the ceiling. The old green washing line continued to the front door, where a bright pink scarf hung from a steel coat rack, and then onto the back wall. Behind a poorly hung curtain lay a dingy metal frame bed. The sad excuse for a blanket was scrunched up at the end of the bed, miles away from the pillow, which clearly hadn't been touched in at least a few day due to the lack of creases.

When the ringing of the clock ceased, the gentle ticks of three, no, maybe twice that many clocks echoed off the exposed brick wall. Allowing the sound to draw you to their source would bring you to a lanky man, hunched over a wide, oil stained desk while tinkering with brass innards of a poor little stopwatch. His jaw length chestnut hair was pushed out of his face, revealing glittering threads of grey and sliver underneath. His face was gaunt, clearly lacking more than a few hours of desperately needed sleep. To his left; a tin ladybird on a spring embedded in wood. To his right; a diamond ring surrounded by tools and stray pieces of metal.

The more the man tinkered the louder the ticking seemed to get. How long was it since he rested his eyes? One, two days…perhaps. Despite the numerous clocks placed about the room, it was not very often that one would check the time. If one were fortunate enough to gaze upon any one of the man’s clocks, they would be met with such beauty that they would find it difficult to pay any attention to the time displayed. The pocket watch he was working on in that moment had a delicate engraving on a bird and a ladybird. Unfinished.

Unfortunately, his concentration was broken by someone swinging the door wide open. The poor man practically leapt out of his seat in shock.

“Sorry I haven’t been by in a while, my boss has been breathing down my neck this week with a big settlement. You know how she gets.”

She hangs her coat up beside the scarf, eyeing it with an exasperated expression.

“Gráinne still hasn’t come by to pick her scarf up?”

She hears the man grumble to himself before deciding to speak up.

“She would never set foot back here even if her life depended on it.” He huffed dryly.

The woman’s forced smile faltered, looking back to the scarf with a sad expression. She quickly collected herself, making a beeline to the sink. With a swift motion she threw the trousers into a basket in the corner and turned the chair around so she had a clear view of the mountain of crockery.

“Anyhow, I told you not to let this all pile up. S’pretty hard to eat when there aren’t any plates.” She chuckled, though by the persistent screwing of T-screws one could assume that the man in question wasn’t listening. Looking in his direction her brows furrowed. Partially in concern, but more so in growing annoyance.

She walked around the room tidying various things here and there, chatting about her day, office gossip and the like before cautiously mentioning their mutual friends. But just as before there was no response apart from the occasional hum of vague agreement. Her patience was reaching her limit.

“You know I was speaking to your mother the other day.”

No response.

“She said you weren’t answering or returning her calls. She was really worried about you.”

Nothing.

She started talking short strides toward him.

“A guy asked me out at work yesterday. Asked if I wanted to go to dinner, in a really high end restaurant too.”

Alright, that’s it.

“I said yes.”

Not even a twitch.

“Jakov!” She stood at his side towering above him. He flinched forward, clearly being ripped from his own imagination, unfortunately causing him to jam his screwdriver into the delicate pocket watch.

He stared at the piece of metal in his hand, eyes wide in horror before sharpening into a glare directed straight at the frustrated young lady.

“What is wrong with you?” He erupted.

“Well look at that, you finally looked at me.”

He dropped the pocket watch, letting it clatter on the table before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What is it Nora? What could possibly want from me?” His tone was low, tired.

“It’s been weeks. Everyone is worried sick while you’re wasting away up here.”

“Everyone?” An unamused expression was plastered on his face.

“I’ve been worried too.” Nora’s face softened as she gently reached out to him. He jerked away, abruptly pushing out his chair and walking towards the sink. She looked at the pocket watch before the glint from the diamond ring caught her eye. She stiffened, eyes pricking with tears. She quickly blinked them away, turning in the direction of Jakov, who was chugging a water from a pint glass Nora stole for him. He filled the glass up again, choosing to gaze into it absentmindedly.

“I don’t need you pity” Came his curt reply.

“Oh grow up, Jakov. This isn’t about pity, this is about you wallowing in sorrow because you think it makes you an artist.”

His eyes shot up to meet hers. “I am an artist.” His grip tightened around the cup.

“Yes, because of your skill, not because of…this” She grabbed his balled up blanket to emphasise her point. Jakov rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t know. Just… would it kill you to meet up, to talk over coffee or something?”

“Who meets for the sole reason of drinking coffee?”

“That’s not the point. The point is to check in with the people you love-”

Jakov interrupted her with a well-timed scoff. If Nora’s patience was thin before, it was closer to the thickness of a strand of hair now. The clocks sounded louder to her, though that may have been the thrum of blood rushing in her ears.

“Look, I’m sorry that you family passed their legacy to you, but you need to get it together. You are pushing away every single person who cares about you.”

Tick

“Yeah, well I’m better for it. “

Tick

“You can’t possibly believe that.” Nora felt like she was drowning. It was like he was a million miles away and drifting further with every second. He walk over to her, his long strides kicking up dust as he moved. He got up in her face, poison dripping from his tongue as he spoke.

Tick.

“Yes. I do.”

He brushed past her, placing his cup on his table. Nora stared at the wall in front of her. She knew him to be a harsh man but he had never been that cruel. That was her finally straw.

“No.”

“No, what?” He was clearly becoming exhausted with this line of conversation.

“No. You need to listen to me. You think that rotting up in some dusty apartment with you toys makes you strong? That you’re suffering for your art? The epitome of the starving artist? Well I’m calling bullshit on that.” She tried her best to keep her voice steady as she puffs up her chest in an attempt to conjure up any drop of confidence left in her body as she turned to look at him.

He doesn’t look at her, but she could tell he was irritated by how tense his shoulders were.

“You think you’re a strong man who’s bottled up all his emotions and needs, and that somehow makes you smart and resilient because you don’t have anyone around anyway. Right? You think you know isolation but you don’t.” She made sure to punctuate her last words, spitting across the room.

He flicked his head around, eyes searching her face in confusion.

“You want to feel isolation so badly? Have it. For as long as you want.” Her voice began to waver, but before he could register it she was already halfway out the door, pulling the scarf along with her, leaving her green bomber jacket behind.

Slam. The sound of the door rang in his ears. His feet felt glued to their spot, unable to shift even an inch. It should be noted that this was not the first time concern from Nora was hurled his way. But this time felt different. It felt final. Well good riddance, he thought. They’d all be better off going about their lives and he his.

His eyes drifted over to the broken metal pierced by a polished screwdriver. His body seemed to float towards his seat, taking the mangled piece in his hands. The cogs in his head turned trying to find some way of salvaging it. But the more he look, the less chance there was at salvaging it. The tiny intricate cogs, almost as thin as paper had been too badly damaged. He groaned in frustration, placing it down on the table. There had to be something he could do.

Hours past. Though he hadn’t bothered to check exactly how many. The numerous clocks in the room had started to become repulsive to him, their ticks like chatter, gossiping with one another. With each second that passed the sound seemed to get louder and louder. Perhaps just to spite him. His stomach turned. He could barely remember the last time he ate. He pondered the memory of something Nora cooked for him some time last year. The though made his stomach rumble, joining the cascade of noise filling the room.

He needed to eat. There was no way he could fix this watch. When did he start it anyway? His head was throbbing, he thought the water from earlier would help with his headaches. Perhaps it wasn’t enough. He really needed to eat. But the watch was still just sitting there, unchanged from earlier. Were the cocks getting even louder? What was wrong with him? What would Nora do? There’s no point asking that she’s gone. Gone. Forever. Why wouldn’t those clocks just be quiet?

It was night. Jakov was seated on the floor next to the window. Broken glass was scattered around him. Moonlight casted shadows behind the corpses of clocks littered in every corner of the room. The darkness began to swallow him whole as his eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. He mustered up whatever will he had to move in order to drag his body up and trudged over to his rickety bed, where he plummeted into a dreamless sleep.

Chirping was the thing that woke him up. The position of his bed granted him the mercy of shielding his eyes from the morning sun. His eyes fluttered open, gaze landing on the peeling paint splattered on the ceiling. He took his time sitting up. His body ached from his well needed rest. Following the sound of chirping, he spotted a bluebird perched on the sill outside his window. He frowned at the noise, going to rub his head. Damn headaches never stop.

He carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet found the worn shoes he had kicked off in during his sleep. Jakov decided to perch next to the bird on the inside of the glass with a cup of coffee he had brewed. The bitterness of it made him pucker. He hadn’t been shopping in quite a while, so there wasn’t any chance of finding sugar anywhere in his cupboards. That’s would he would do that day, he decided. Shopping. He looked about the room, at the broken glass and even more-so broken clocks as he reminisced on the previous night. A tad dramatic, he thought to himself.

He dressed himself in some fresh clothes looking in a small mirror on his desk. A glint shone in the corner of his eye, grabbing his attention. The ring. Guilt started to settle in the pit of his stomach, or maybe it was just hunger. Deciding it was high time he left his apartment. As he reached the door he stopped himself. He felt his eyes being pulled toward the green jacket on a hook. He took a deep breath through his nose. He tapped his finger on the door handle, chewing his lip deep in thought. His thoughts landed on a conclusion quite quickly. He grabbed the ring and shrugged on the jacket, relishing in the cosy feeling of fleece on the interior. A warm smile spread across his face, which seemed to be enough to finally push himself out the door.

The streets weren’t exactly flooded with people as it was still early morning, but there were enough to force Jakov to awkwardly smile at the passers-by in an uncomfortable unwritten obligation. But he did have to admit, it was nice. He collected a few things from his closest shop. Some fresh bread, vegetables, and of course, sugar. He threw it all in a fabric bag and stepped outside, letting the bright sun warm his face.

The scent of coffee lead him down a side alley to a coffee stand run by lovely old lady who invited him to try a new bean she got in. He politely agreed, taking a seat beside her. So politely, it seemed, that she gave him a free cappuccino.

“It’s always nice to have good company, with even better conversation.” She said gleefully. Though he couldn’t remember saying anything particularly interesting.

He continued down the side alley, following several streets he had never ventured through before, letting the smell of his coffee waft in the air. He became lost in thought as he wandered until he heard the shrill sound of a familiar voice. Nora was wishing a young woman a good day, handing her a wrapped bunch of dried rosemary. She turned around to tidy up a few more flowers in her stall. She turned around to see Jakov standing in front of her, causing her to let out a surprised yelp. They both stared at each other, neither quite sure what to do or say.

“C-coffee?” He held out the cup, spilling it over the rim and burning his hand. Nora snorted a laugh and gave him a smug grin. She took it from him and gave it a sip. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Wha- is it bad?” He blurted as he tried to take the cup from her but she pulled it away. She chuckled and swirled the cup taking in the sight of the foam.

“Nah, I just didn’t take you for a Cappuccino type of guy, that’s all.”

He let out a laugh that felt like it was kept down for far too long, and with it rang the bell from the town clock tower, which echoed through the town.