Smell of Metal

A Journey Into the World of Watchmaking.

Deadbeat Seconds

Coming down the stairs, there was a man with a limp – greeting an elderly man as he passed him on his way down. You could see the tick in his eyes.

He ambled his way to the ballroom and sat behind a brown upright piano that was facing north-west. The score sheets were still there from the night before.

Half a minute later, the whole building was vibrating in accordance with his fingers playfully stroking the keys. The nurse lowered her book to listen, the private amped up the volume on his iPod in his bed, and all of the nine fingers of an ex-secret policeman would itch for his accordion.

They had never heard anyone play that piano with such grace before – even him. Four bars. Another four. Four more. The music just kept on flowing.

The nurse could swear she had heard that tune somewhere. “From some movie? A concert? did my cousin play it in her car?” She wondered as she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Yet, it resonated with something deep within her.

Having played for some time, the pianist decided to close the piece with a determined C# minor.
After a heavy sigh, he took a look at his watch and suddenly grasped the fact that everything he played was in perfect synchrony with its’ beat.

Without realizing it, the whole building was breathing to the tick of his watch.

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