The Golden Watch
His long coat brushed noisily against his legs as he strode into the bank. Snow fell from the long, black trenchcoat that swirled around him as he stopped just inside the door and wiped his shoes on the welcome rug. Even in this enclosed atmosphere, he could still see a cloud of vapor rise with every breath. He drew the layers of clothing closer to him as a shiver racked his body, rattling his bones and causing his teeth to clatter. He jumped at the sound.
For Anni. I must do it for Anni, Michael Harper thought to himself as he joined a line in front of the elegant, marble desk of the Fisk Bank of Chicago.
So many people… Michael felt his gloved hand begin to tremble. He grabbed it and forced it to stop. Calm yourself, Michael! No one will know. No one can know. How could they?
He stood there, nervously glancing around, occasionally shifting his gaze to the large, black and white clock on the wall.
Almost noon. He fingered the golden chain that breeched the gap of the two pockets of his vest. It felt heavy and strangely warm, even in his two coats, the vest, and a white, pressed shirt, accented with his favorite brown tie. The small, round object in the vest felt as though it were burning a way through the thick layers of clothing and into his heart.
He removed his hat as a lady in a red dress with blonde curls walked by him, smiling. The weight of the wide-brimmed hat made the gloves on his hands feel slippery with sweat.
The next person in line stepped up to the desk and began to talk to the woman seated behind the iron bars. Michael moaned as he began to smile and talk in tones that meant he might be standing here a while. The woman, a cascade of dark brown curls falling over her shoulders, parted her lustrous, red lips in a gleaming, white smile and began to talk in giggly tones.
Michael sighed and ran the arm of his coat across his wet forehead. This blasted sweat made him feel even colder. He glanced at the clock again. Three minutes to noon. He was almost out of time. Time… How many wished to control it… Oh that he could skip forward in time right now.
Two men brushed by him and he nodded to them nervously, forcing a smile. Do they know what a responsibility this is? I am using it for a good cause. But they wouldn’t understand. No one understands.
“Hey Pal, everyone else here needs to finish their business too. Leave the lady alone and scram.”
Michael jumped as the loud voice echoed through the room. He saw a thin, greasy haired fellow just ahead of him addressing the man who was still standing at the desk. Many in the line put in their own protests.
The man sighed, dropped his head, then raised it again and handed the lady a piece of paper before taking a wad of cash from her and stuffing it in his pocket. He turned and walked away, but not before sending an angry look towards the man who had shouted at him, his leather shoes tapping against the solid, marble floor.
Michael felt himself tense as the next person in line stepped to the desk. Why is this so hard? He fingered the golden chain once more, twisting and twirling it about his fingers.
The minutes ticked by and he felt as though he had begun to panic. The man concluded his business, nodded politely, and then exited the bank.
Finally, his hands shaking, Michael stepped forward to the desk and towards the brunette behind it.
“Good afternoon sir, what can I do for you?”
Good afternoon… “Uh, yes, I need you to give this to your boss for me.”
He slid forward a slip of paper. Her red fingernails flashed in the light as she picked it up and looked at it.
Michael took the watch from his pocket and toyed with it in his hand. She had not gotten a good look at his face yet. He had to do it now or not at all. He looked down at the golden circle in his hands and placed his thumb over the small button to open it.
He wavered for a second.
The clock struck noon and began to toll out the tones. Michael counted.
The toll sounded its sixth note. His hand shook.
Seventh note. He felt a bead of sweat run down his face.
There would be no turning back.
The tenth note struck.
He pushed the button.
