Mother Nature Knows Best

A wall of ticking timepieces follows the frost growing across the shopfront glass. Alex bursts through the door, heaving two overflowing shopping bags in his arms. Shoving his shoulder against the main panel, he manages to shut the door and silence the bell ringing wildly to announce his entrance.

“Lina! You here?” he calls, brushing off the flakes of snow from his coat and beanie.

“Just in the back,” his wife calls, still hard at work. “How’s it looking out there?”

Alex enters through the green curtain in the doorway to find Lina dissecting a carriage clock with tiny silver tweezers. “The mother of all blizzards,” he replies, kissing the side of her head. A shiver makes its way through his body as he rubs his hands together for warmth, unaided by the small space heater. He pulls up a stool to sit across from her. “Is that a new piece?”

“Yeah… a customer brought it in… yesterday.” Her eyes don’t break from her work, seemingly entranced by the intricately placed cogs and levers within the brass skeleton. Each cog plays its part in the clock, with one misalignment spelling doom for the timepiece.

“Well, at least you’re keeping busy in here. I’ve hit a slump again,” Alex admits, pulling out his notebook and pen from his tattered leather messenger bag. It sags on the table with tattered ends and wrinkled edges, much like its owner. “I haven’t written anything worth pursuing in days.”

The store is quiet; spare the howling wind outside. Alex enters a staring contest with the blank double-spread in front of him, hoping that the words will find their way onto the page if he looks long enough. But they never do. Having hit his worst writer’s block ever, he can feel the pressure build as time grows between him and his last publication.

A silence hangs between them, broken only by the quiet ticking of the clocks in the store. “Alright, what’s on your mind,” Lina asks, knowing that Alex is only a long sigh away from his spiral down into hopelessness.

“It’s— nothing. I’m just stuck.”

Tearing herself away from the patient on the repair pad, she flicks up the magnifier from her glasses and stares at her husband. “Is it the wedding?” she asks, neatly placing her tweezers and hairspring collet lever on the workbench.

He sits for a moment, spinning the ballpoint pen in his hand. Alex’s competitive older brother Charlie was getting married to his high school sweetheart in a week, sparing no expense with an extravagant wedding celebration.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Lina offers. “You saw how he was last Easter.”

“He just got a job at Apple Lina. It’s a pretty big deal,” Alex replies, frustrated at the subject.

“That might be true, but he didn’t need to belittle you and trash-talk your work. He always treats you like garbage.”

Alex goes silent, realising that his wife is right yet again. His hands slip from his desk, leaving his pen to fidget with the end of his knitted jumper.

“Look, the decision is up to you,” Lina says, giving him a hug from behind, “but you can’t sit on the fence forever, okay?”

“I know. Thanks, honey,” he replies, squeezing her arms lovingly.

“On second thought,” Lina says, looking through to the shop front, “You don't need to decide.” Alex scrunches his brow, wondering what has brought on such a dramatic change in her mind.

She continues, “even if you wanted to go, it looks like mother nature has other plans.” The blizzard has picked up, dumping two feet of snow at the door with more incoming. They are snowed in.