A year to the day since Elias passed, Clara held a "Grand Re-Winding" ceremony. The entire village crowded into the small shop. Every clock in the room had been cleaned, oiled, and synchronized.
As the minute hand on the grandfather clock in the corner hit twelve, a symphony erupted. Chimes, gongs, cuckoos, and bells rang out in a chaotic, beautiful harmony. Clara stood in the center of the noise, no longer feeling the sting of the five years she had lost.
She looked at the golden pocket watch—the one with the gear marked Now—resting on her own waistcoat. She realized her father hadn't left her a business; he had left her a way to stay present in a world that always wants to rush toward tomorrow.
The shop was full of people, but as Clara looked at the empty stool behind the bench, she didn't feel lonely. The friction had passed, and the rhythm was finally, perfectly, hers.