Horatio Oddity was known to the people of the neighborhood for his dedication to his antique shop in an unnamed and timeless city.
Horatio had been at it all his life. He was now an elderly man, with delicately pink skin and a round face. His lively eyes, round and dark like two blueberries, were always alert to any movement. His thick, white hair, kept in a somewhat unkempt manner, created a stark contrast with the precision with which he carried out his work, where every action tended to be orderly. Finally, two red plums in place of cheeks and glasses always perched on his nose completed his appearance.
Despite his uncertain and cautious steps, Horatio walked without the need for a cane, almost defying gravity and carefully balancing each step. His unstable gait, however, revealed an innate determination to always reach his destination.
He lived in a corner apartment above the shop, and from one of the windows on the front facade, one could clearly see the always gleaming display windows of his small workshop, filled with antique and unusual clocks, some of which seemed out of time. There was a great assortment of objects, evenly distributed across two rooms.
In the smaller room, a wooden table and chair, now browned by the years, give shape to that otherwise dimensionless space... because everything passed through there: objects that needed to be cleaned or repaired before being put up for sale.
The other room gradually collected everything produced in the first.
One evening, just before the usual closing time, a young man introduced himself as Percival Marlowe upon entering. He came in gracefully, as not to disturb the dim light of the lamps which demanded great concentration and respect for the setting. He explored the objects under the two display lights facing the street. With his slender figure and light step, Percival seemed almost ethereal as he moved through the room. The antique objects seemed to respond to his presence, as if recognizing one of their own, if only for their originality. His fingers stopped at a pocket watch, and his eyes filled with admiration for its detail and craftsmanship.
Horatio observed the young man with interest and approached him silently. "May I help you, Mr. Marlowe?" he asked in a rare sweet tone. Percival turned in surprise but then smiled. "Oh, of course. I'm looking for something unique, something that tells a story." Horatio nodded and began to guide him through the main room. As they walked among the shelves now heavy with numerous objects, Horatio spoke of clocks that had traveled through time, mirrors that reflected alternative worlds, and paintings that had captured the souls of those who had painted them. Percival listened attentively, captivated by the words of the antiquarian. At that moment, the shop seemed more of a place of wonder than a mere business; it was as if the boundary between past, present and future had suddenly narrowed, and time had slowed.
The young man noticed a particularly interesting object, a small chest, and asked to see its contents. Horatio carefully opened it, revealing an ancient wristwatch. It wasn't very beautiful. "This watch has a story of its own," said Horatio. "It seems to have traveled through countless eras and places. We don't know where it came from or who built it, but it carries a unique energy." Percival had to convince Horatio to sell it to him. As Horatio seemed hesitant, the young man insisted. "This watch is unlike anything I've ever seen; it's a unique piece, and I would love to have it in my collection." Horatio hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "In that case, Mr. Marlowe, the watch is yours. Take it and keep it with care. I hope it brings into your life the same wonder it brought me while I was its custodian."
Percival left the shop with the watch in a small velvet box; he returned several times to visit Oddity, visit that soon became a habit. He spent hours talking to the old antiquarian, listening to stories of past eras, and learning the secrets of the objects.
Everything can change in an instant! Their stories, like the precious objects in the shop, were the past and the future. The present, always in motion, had woven their destinies together. That first encounter would thus leave a lasting imprint on both of their lives, a bond between two kindred souls, a story yet to unfold, and perhaps some secrets still hidden among the gears of ancient clocks.