The Watch

I saw a watch before me. It had stopped. It lay dead on the splintered table next to a well-worn pen and a pair of glasses — owner unknown.

I came home today to find this disconcerting collection waiting for me on my old telephone table in the hallway. I instinctively dropped my keys into the gaudy bowl perched on the edge of the table. I then noticed the three alien objects with a jolt.

I lived alone. Nobody else had a key. How had these items appeared in my home? I quickly surveyed the hallway to check, not for an intruder, but that I was, in fact, in the correct house.

It was still light outside so I did not feel unsafe. It didn’t *feel* like there was an intruder in the house. But here’s the thing. When I looked back at the table, the items had disappeared. Of course, I immediately questioned my sanity. Had I imagined them? No. I had not. They had been there. I was certain. But now they were gone and I had no way to explain it.

I decided to forget the whole episode.

The next day they reappeared and the same mundane progression of events unfolded. I looked away, looked back, and they were gone. This has been happening every day since. I am ninety-eight now and I still see these objects daily. They appear then disappear. I am not sure how many decades or centuries have passed. I lose track without a calendar or watch.

The phantom objects have since become my friends. I have nothing else. I have nobody else. All living souls died many years ago in the war. I am the sole survivor. Funny really.

I remember now that the watch belonged to my wife. I don’t remember who she was, though. Maybe I am imagining her.

Perhaps dementia has come early.

Or on time.

A flash fiction short designed for hair tousling, tedium negating, mental edification. Please hit the heart to help others stumble across it.