Little Miss Hobbs, Pt. X: Applause for the Watchmaker

Her eyes widened as she approached the little glass table at the near-center of the room, pocketwatch likewise nearly-but-not-quite centered, and in amazement, noticed how even her movement in the room changed the dynamic of the sound, adding a rush of wind or hush of respite as she passed by the many keepsakes that had been so carefully positioned. ” It is perfect!” she exclaimed, “Oh man, oh man… It’s so much more than I ever imagined was possible,” and she marveled for several minutes as they exchanged glances, giggles, and giddy smiles.

Then, as she surveyed the room, her face went downcast and brow furrowed once again. “Sir, I still don’t know if this will work. I don’t have all the things you have… I don’t even have a round, glass table! And even if I did have all these things, how could I ever hope to place them just so, as you have?” She snatched the watch quickly from the table and the rain sounded as if it was being blown eastward, gradually growing more distant. She replaced the pocketwatch in its box, and in the eerie silence, walked back over to him, handing him the precious treasure with a sorrowful shudder, and made a motion to take her leave.

“Little Miss!” he called, voice hoarse as if he had been weeping loudly for hours. He cleared his throat, “I know you fell asleep, but in all your notes of my bustling about, did you forget or simply overlook that it is now a bit past eight? For an hour and a half, I maneuvered and adjusted all these precious keepsakes, some I will never, ever part with. I even retrieved some items from my room upstairs to place them down here, and vice versa. I did so pedantically! For over an hour! And for you, it may take longer! And mayhaps it will begin to look odd and cluttered to an unpracticed eye (she now realized an iron skillet standing on end next to a framed picture of a loved one, with a giant pinecone perfectly balanced on top, bridging over the two), but take note at how it is all just so, and it was no small amount of time or resources that achieved the downpour we both heard. Playing with the lighting was my theatrical mind being a bit over-zealous, but for a moment, you began to retreat into the fear of being wetted by the storm, and here you are again retreating into a fear of the impossible, which clearly is not so. I told you it may require rearranging the environment for this to work, and proceeded to show you as an example just what that may entail. Do not forget, I have a practiced hand at making such delicately intricate things. Please do not tell me it was all for naught, or that you have, once again, lost heart.”

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