Watches for Women Part I - Time slows when his hand covers hers.

She fastens the watch the way she once accepted his hand: slowly, reverently, as if the motion itself could undo the years between them. The clasp meets the metal with a soft click, the sound of return, of control regained. She imagines, absurdly, that he feels it wherever he is a shiver through the invisible thread that still links them. The hands begin to move. Time, obedient again. But she knows the truth: some hours never end, they only circle back. The watch doesn’t tell time. It tells him.