Page 198 - B. Ing_Antologi Cerpen Xl-6
P. 198
On the final day, Eliot fitted a new hand to the
clock and polished its face. He wound it carefully, then
stepped back as the mechanism came alive with a soft
tick-tick-tick.
“There,” he said, placing it gently into Leo’s
arms. “Time remembered.”
Leo beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Dovetail. My
grandfather used to wind this clock every Sunday. He
said it reminded him to be grateful.”
Eliot nodded, his eyes distant. “Clocks remind us
that time is not just passing it’s a gift.”
Before Leo left, he hesitated. “Could you teach
me? How to fix clocks?”
Eliot studied the boy for a moment, then reached
beneath the counter and handed him a small brass pocket
watch.
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