Borrowed Time

An old watch grants extra hours in a day- but each borrowed minute comes at a cost.

It started with a ticking sound that shouldn't
have been there.

Loisa found the antique watch buried in a
forgotten drawer at her grandmother's house-
silver- plated, still warm to the touch, though no
one had used it in decades. She wound it
absentmindedly. The moment the hands spun
into motion, so did the world around her. Or
rather, the world paused....and she didn't.

The first time it happened, she thought she was
dreaming. Everyone frozen- mid-steps, mid-word,
mid-laugh. She moved freely, unnoticed. The
moment the watch ticked again, life resumed,
unaware.

She quickly learned how to borrow time; wind
the watch, press the dial, and gain an hour no
one else had. An hour to write, to rest, to escape.
It became her secret haven.

But the more she borrowed, the more she
noticed things changing. Her reflection aged
slightly faster. The circles under her eyes
deepened. The world felt colder when she
returned.

And then came the price.

One morning, she found her mother staring
blankly, repeating the same sentence over and
over- like a record scratched. Her brother forgot
her name. Time, it seemed, was not hers alone
to borrow.

The last time she used the watch, she sat with it
in her laps, hands trembling.

"I just wanted more time," she whispered.

The watch ticked once more, slow and final.She
set it down on the windowsill, knowing that
some moments aren't meant to be stretched-
they're meant to be lived.