Sometimes I stare at an old pocket watch and think every tick is a secret. It could be a relic from a 1792 skirmish, a lover’s promise, or just a misplaced coin. I like to trace every scratch and note, because ignoring it feels like a betrayal to the past. If it turns out to be nothing more than a dent, I still treat it like a relic—history loves to make the mundane dramatic.