The Stopwatch

Chapter One

Paul stared at his screen, feeling his soul ripped out of him and into the fluorescent light. The cubicle was dull and grey, with the buzzing of the air condition throughout the ventilation system. Paul's cubicle was filled with the usual office things, such as a printer, coffee maker, stapler, pencil cup, and the squeaky office chair. The one thing that was off about the cubicle was a frame on the wall, saying,

"Paul Faulder, Physics Major." In bold, fancy lettering, behind the dusty glass. Paul sighed, and rubbed his eyes. Paul looked over at the clock on the wall and grew excited that it was almost time to go home. He looked on at the clock, whispering under his breath for the minute hand to go just a bit faster. He stood up, drank the rest of his coffee, and went to grab his coat. His co-workers did the same and walked over in straight lines. If it weren't for his large glasses and a thick mustache, he would look the same compared to everyone.

Paul's heart stopped when he saw his boss Mr. Murphy standing outside his office,

"Faulder, office, now!" Mr. Murphy called out, crossing his arms to show dominance. Paul sighed, and walked over to Mr. Murphy. Murphy pointed to the room, and Paul walked in first and sat down on the stool in front of the desk. Murphy sat in his leather-bound chair, with fresh stuffing, and leaned back. The room was filled with knick-knacks, and the only thing making noise was the drinking bird. Murphy stared into Paul's eyes, like a bull staring down a skinny matador,

"Uh... Why did you call me sir?" Paul said, raising his eyebrow. Murphy stood up, and stared out his window,

"Well, you're not fired, so that's the only thing going good for you at the moment," Murphy said, his booming voice overpowering Paul's meek, quiet voice. "I have some bad news, and worse news for you Paul, and before I state anything, I am sorry." Murphy looked back at Paul, with the mournful eyes that a robot would have,

"I'll have the bad news first, sir."

"Well, since Jerry called in sick, again," Mr. Murphy looked like he could turn Jerry to stone, "I need someone to stay for overtime."

"Wait, why me? I stayed on overtime yesterday!" Paul said, sounding determined and angry as a bunny,

"Sorry, but it is entirely random," Murphy pointed to the roll cage, filled with names of the other employees, "But I picked you, again."

"That's what you said yesterday, and the day before!"

"Now, now Paul, you might wanna be angry at the worst news."

"Oh, how could today get any worse!?" Paul's blood boil, his face turned red,

"Paul," Murphy hesitated, but breathed in, "Your father is dead."

Paul's anger deflated, "My dad is dead?" He said with disbelief,

"Yes, and his lawyer came in around two o'clock. He said that 'He'll be at his house when he gets off work, but please give him this.'" Murphy then held a box and gave it to Paul. Paul, meanwhile, was fighting the swelling of tears in his eyes, as well as using duct tape on a broken dam,

"How come you didn't say anything earlier!?" Paul said in between sobs,

"Because I wanted you to be happy till now."

"Murphy, what makes you think this job makes me happy?" Paul said, looking at Mr. Murphy in the eye, with the determination of a matador, "In fact, what makes you think I'm happy at all!?" Murphy looked at Paul with the look of I'm sorry that I'm not sorry.

Five minutes later, Paul is sitting back at his desk, looking at his father's box. He remembered his father making it, from chopping the tree in the fresh morning, to sanding the pieces of the wood, to gluing and painting the wood with a dark, cozy brown. Paul turned away and did anything to not open the box.

The first thing he did was call his wife, Olivia, and felt a weight in his heart,

"Hello?" His wife said,

"Hey Olivia," Paul said,

"Oh, hi Paul. Working late again?" Olivia said, her disappointment stinging like a snake,

"Sorry, I just-"

"Wait, have you been crying?"

"Yeah, uh... did a lawyer visit earlier today?"

"Yeah, all he said was that to tell you to give him a call, and gave me his number," Olivia said, "What happened? Are you getting sued?"

"No, I... My... Dad's dead." Paul said, his throat finally able to swallow that stone,

"Oh my god!" Olivia said, "I'm so sorry! I can tell the kids, when will you get home?" Paul gritted his teeth, feeling that fire from before,

"Murphy said I had to work late, again," Paul said, "I don't even know why it's always me! I swear the raffle cage is rigged."

"Well, just, come home safe, okay?"

"Okay, I love you."

"Love you too" Paul put the phone down and looked around his cage. Paul was in hell, and he couldn't escape it. He went over to his desk and began to work.

Ten minutes went by, as Paul focused on his paperwork, thinking to himself Why the hell did I waste five years of my life in college when I am given a job as an accountant and have God knows how much debt? I wish my life was at least a little better. Paul then reached for a stapler but bumped into the well-made box. Paul looked over, and felt the smooth texture of the box, feeling his father's passion given form.

Paul grabbed the box and decided to open it. Inside were two things: A letter and a watch. The latter was set aside, as Paul read the letter,

"I know life may be hard, but never take yours for granted. With all my love, joy, and care, Dad." Paul shuddered and set the letter down. He picked up the watch and marveled at its construction.

It was heavy, though he could tell it was from all the clockwork on the inside, but what pocket watch needed this much? The metal gleamed with dazzling light, as it twinkled in the dark office. It made a smooth tic tock tic tock noise, one that was not as harsh as the clock on the wall. Then, Paul noticed that the time can't be adjusted, though it was well accurate. The only thing on the watch was a button as if you could stop the watch from working. Well, why would dad make this? You couldn't fix the time on the thing. Paul thought more and more and decided to press the button. The watch stopped, and Paul proceeded to continue his work.

Hours flew by when finally Paul was done. Weirdly, he didn't feel tired nor exhausted. He felt as energetic as a bolt of lightning. Paul glanced at the time and stared back at his work. Paul then did a 180 and stared at the clock on the wall. It read 5:30 like it was when he finished talking to his wife. Paul stood up, and saw the janitor a few feet away from him,

"Hey, pal?" Paul said, "I think the clock is broken." The janitor did nothing, and Paul walked over to the man. The man was not moving, nor was he blinking, breathing, or had a pulse. Paul freaked out and ran over to his desk. He knocked his pencil case out of the way but was stupefied when the pencils stopped in midair. Paul picked up the floating pencils and put them back into the pencil cup.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Paul said, hoping someone would answer. Alas, only silence was the only thing he was greeted to. Paul, curious now, crumbled a piece of scratch paper and threw across his cubicle, and once more, it stopped. Paul wondered what was going on until his eyes landed on his father's watch.

Paul picked the watch up, and looking at the janitor, clicked the button. The janitor began to move, humming a song he was remembering. Paul clicked it again, and the janitor stopped. Paul looked at the clock on the wall, and it read 5:31 PM. Paul looked down at his father's watch, and his stomach filled with static balloons as he bobbed around, jumping in the air in wonder.

Paul went to his boss' office, and found every name in the raffle machine was his. After some much-needed editing, he went to his car. Paul then saw birds floating in midair, and remembered to click the watch again. Once the birds started to flap their wings, Paul got into his car and drove on home.