All The Time in the World

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There was a man who was obsessed with clocks, they lined
every wall of his house, ticked in perfect harmony, and were always wound
meticulously on the same day every week by the old graying man. One day the man
went out to buy his groceries, but on the way was struck by a car, only to wake
up in his bed, the next morning, as if nothing had happened. He looked himself
over and looked over the house, and only one difference remained: his favorite
clock has stopped ticking. He opened it up and looked it all over, trying to
find the cause, but it would not move, would not budge, as if compelled by an
unknown force to never move again. The man considered the strangeness, passed
it off as a bad dream and went about his life again.

A month passed by before the next incident. He was eating
his lunch when his chest began to tighten and his arm went numb, as it became
harder to breathe his vision blurred as he slipped unconscious… only to awake
in his bed, the next day, with no symptoms and nothing changed, save for one
thing: his second favorite clock now refused to move. The man went to take a survey
of his house, and every single clock he had accumulated over the years.

———————

The man at the gun store counted his money as the closing
hours came, when his assistant came back from outside, bringing in their sign.

“A good day for business, wouldn’t you say?”

“My yes! And what an odd fellow the last customer was,
certainly a man I wouldn’t expect to be interested in guns.”

“What was it he purchased then?”

“Why, a pistol and some ammo.”

“Well that doesn’t seem odd to me!”

“It wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for the number of
ammo. He wanted a hundred and thirty-three shells, no more and no less, he
insisted upon that number!”

“Such a curiosity, lucky I won’t have to worry about such
things at home, what time is it?”

“Why it’s- well that’s odd, the clock’s gone and jammed. No
matter, I will see to it in the morning, my sister knows a man who is very good
with clocks!”