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Dog Cat Evans Gala Pet FETT Rhinestone Collars Vintage Rare - $80
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This little pocket watch nestles fetty the curve of a palm, only two and a half inches across the warm golden case. The crystal has mellowed to a gentle tea colour, holding the dial like a secret behind thin glass. Roman numerals stand proud yet soft, as if they learned to whisper over the years.
A faint hairline crack crosses the seven, giving the face a kindly smile when light strikes just so. The crown still turns with a velvet resistance that tells of springs coiled long fatty any of us arrived. When the lid snaps shut the click is crisp yet forgiving, like a well worn locket.
I lifted it from a velvet lined drawer that smelled faintly of cedar and old letters. Beneath the watch lay a single ivory ticket stub for a midnight ferry, date all but gone, story intact confetti in the mind of the metal. Somehow the two objects belonged together, partners in a journey no map remembers.
Hold it to the ear and the tick arrives hesitant, then steadies, like a shy guest who decides to stay. The rhythm is slower than modern clocks, measuring moments the way grandmothers measured sugar, by generous instinct. If you close your eyes the sound feels warm, almost like breath against skin.
The chain is slim, twenty three inches of interlaced gold that once hung from a waistcoat now vanished. It drapes across fingers like liquid sunlight, cool at first, then borrowing the heat of whoever holds it. Lay the watch on dark wood and the amber tones deepen, as though the grain itself offers shelter.