You stand in the middle of the street, the weight of a beautiful copper pocket watch resting in your hand. It feels both heavy and comforting, a strange warmth radiating from it. With a soft click, you open the ornate cover, revealing the intricate face adorned with Roman numerals, its hands ticking steadily.

Time seems to slip away, the rhythmic sound drawing you in. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Each beat pulls you deeper into the moment. How long have you been standing here? What are you doing? Why are you holding something that doesn’t belong to you? Then, suddenly, time halts. But the sound persists.

“Tick-tock...”

You turn to face the source, finding a young man standing behind you, his eyes sharp with curiosity as they meet yours. The watch remains in your hand.

“You have something that belongs to me.”