The Watch

This short story will be continued on a weekly basis.

III. The Storm


We awoke to complete devastation and no way out. The storm left highways completely submerged underwater leaving us trapped inside the hotel with little food. Watching people drive their boats down the same roads I drive to get to work every day left a surreal impression on me.

She laid beside me buried underneath the covers, still asleep and unaware that we wouldn’t be going home anytime soon. It was peculiar to spend so much time with a stranger. I just met her only a few days ago and what should have been a one night stay would potentially last for a few days. I wasn’t necessarily upset to be put in this situation but I felt an uneasiness at how comfortable I’ve grown with her.

As soon as she woke up, we went downstairs for coffee and what little food the hotel had left to bring back to the room with us. Any feelings of restlessness subsided as we spent hours sprawled all over the bed, flipping between episodes of South Park and the local news.

Minutes blurred into hours as we recounted bittersweet memories of childhood friendships, our adolescence paralleled at the same high school and our drunken divergence into college. I learned from her that we shared mutual acquaintances yet we never met. We spent four years in the same building from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon, yet never crossed paths. Our paths led us to the same university where we could have walked past each other on our way to class, but yet no one would accidentally bump into one another.

Claire looked over at the night stand and mentioned, “I couldn’t help but admire your watch.”

“Thanks. I’ve had it for a while.”

She stood up to dig into her bag and pull out a small, gunmetal wrist watch, “I’ve had mine since college. It was a graduation gift to myself.” Her fingers played with each band of the watch, holding it tight in the palm of her hand.

“I always wanted to get myself a nicer watch. You know, when my career takes off. Not a basic watch but an Omega or a Rolex. I’ve always had my eyes set on a Seamaster,” I explained as I searched the internet on my phone for pictures to show her.

“I don’t want to replace mine,” she replied with her watch still clutched firmly in her hand, “It’s crazy to think how we wear something so perishable yet infinite at the same time, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s infinite. It goes, forever. Running God knows how many parallels. We place so much importance on these pieces of metals synced together thinking it will make our lives better if we got a nicer one but it’s almost like we’ve forgotten that it’s what we make of our time here that matters.”


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