Once there was a watchmaker who could fix anything—except the clock in his own shop. Every day, he’d tinker with it between customers, convinced that one more adjustment would make it perfect. But no matter what he did, the hands kept stopping at random times.
One evening, after everyone had gone, he finally sat back and just listened. The little clock ticked unevenly, like it was breathing rather than counting. He realized it wasn’t broken at all—it was keeping time with the rhythm of his own heartbeat. Every time he got anxious, the hands hesitated; every time he calmed, they moved again.
So, instead of repairing it, he left it exactly as it was. From then on, people came not just for repairs but to rest beside that “living clock.” The tick reminded them that their hearts didn’t need to match the world’s tempo to be on time.
Jessica Carey
