(no subject)
Sometimes there were days when there just wasn't anything else to do but paw through a box or a drawer or a closet and see what one could find. Everything Alistair owned had a story, whether it was his or not, and sometimes it presented the perfect way to way to burn a slow afternoon. He'd fish something out and sit back, running his fingers over it, letting it show him what it would, like someone going through a collection of photos they'd looked at repeatedly or books they've read to bits or movies they'd seen a dozen times. Sometimes they seened new to him, as it'd been a long time since he'd read the object in question and he'd forgotten most of what it held.
Such was the case with the watch he found packed away in a little bag at the back of a drawer full of random office implements. He pulled it out of the bag and rolled it in his hand, wondering why he'd hidden it away like that. It was a perfectly good watch. It even still worked. But as he peered into its history, the answer hit him like a slap.
He'd been wearing this watch when he was taken.
Curious, he let himself sink further into the memory, mentally staring like one reading a graphic account of something shocking....
Such was the case with the watch he found packed away in a little bag at the back of a drawer full of random office implements. He pulled it out of the bag and rolled it in his hand, wondering why he'd hidden it away like that. It was a perfectly good watch. It even still worked. But as he peered into its history, the answer hit him like a slap.
He'd been wearing this watch when he was taken.
Curious, he let himself sink further into the memory, mentally staring like one reading a graphic account of something shocking....