The first thing that comes to mind is an old pocket watch. It sits quietly on a table, its face dulled, its hands stopped at a time you can't see. Yet inside those gears and springs, there are all the moments it has kept, the hands that never moved again, the secret that it once told someone about a midnight rendezvous. It feels like a mystery because I keep thinking, who was it for, what did it remember, and why did it stop at that particular tick?