The keeper of time
2024.04.28
In a quaint town where everyone knew each other’s middle names, Jane stood out not for the brightness of her smile or the depth of her intellect, both of which were considerable, but for her uncanny ability to fix things. It was said she could mend a broken spirit just as easily as a fractured clock.
The gentleman in the photograph, Mr. Hargrove, was a testament to Jane’s talents. A widower of five years, his smile had been as absent as the summer rain in their drought-stricken town. But Jane, with her tender care and her toolbox of conversation and compassion, had brought back the twinkle in Mr. Hargrove’s eye.
That spring, the town’s ancient clock tower had stopped ticking, and with it, the community’s heart seemed to pause. It was Jane who climbed the spiraling staircase, her steps echoing in the silence. Hours passed, and folks began to gather below, their eyes following the shadow behind the clock’s face.
Then, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the main square, a sound cut through the quiet — the deep, resonant chime of the clock. The townspeople cheered, looking up to see Jane waving from the tower, a smile as wide as the horizon.
From that day on, Mr. Hargrove volunteered to maintain the clock tower, his purpose renewed. Every time the clock struck the hour, he would look towards Jane’s house, his heart keeping time with the rhythmic chimes, his smile a permanent fixture, as if Jane had tightened a loose bolt within him.
In that town, Jane wasn’t just a fixer; she was the keeper of time, the restorer of smiles, and the unwitting guardian of Mr. Hargrove’s heart.