Chapter 60: The Watch Is Gone
Daniel did not run until he was outside the courthouse. The court’s warning still rang behind him, but the open zip screamed louder.
Running would look guilty.
He still cared about that. So he walked fast through the rain, one hand clamped around the open zip of his bag, the other holding the dead phone like a stone.
The watch had to be there.
It had been there that morning. Memory became inventory when poverty arrived.
He had checked before mediation. Before the repair shop.
Before the court. His mother’s watch in its cracked leather pouch.
The last object in his life that did not belong to Evelyn, Luminara, Gloria, a creditor, or a solicitor’s letter.
He reached a narrow pawn shop three streets from the courthouse. It was a little museum of other people’s last chances.
Its window showed guitars, rings, old cameras, and one silver cup with someone else’s forgotten achievement engraved on it.
Daniel pushed inside.
A bell rang.
The clerk behind the counter looked up and immediately looked bored.
That should have comforted him.
Ordinary contempt was safer than recognition.
Daniel placed the bag on the counter.
“I need to sell a watch.”
His fingers searched the side pocket.
Nothing.
He searched the middle pocket.
Receipts.
A spare collar stay.
A bus ticket damp at the edge.
No pouch.
His breathing changed.
The clerk watched with professional patience.
Daniel emptied the bag onto the counter. The gesture was too wild for daylight and too useless for grief.
Old socks.
Legal papers.
A charger with a split cable.
No watch.
“I had it,” Daniel said.
“Good for you,” the clerk said.
“No. I had it this morning.”
He shoved both hands into the lining as if desperation could cut a new compartment into the fabric.
Then he found the torn thread.
Inner pocket.
Cut open.
Not ripped by accident.
Opened with care.
Daniel saw Gloria’s nails in his mind.
Red.
Perfect.
Patient.
The night she told him she needed to borrow his bag because hers looked cheap.
His stomach turned cold.
“Describe the watch,” the clerk said. The description felt intimate enough to hurt, like giving a stranger his mother’s hand.
Daniel looked up.
“Gold. Rectangular face. Brown strap. Engraving on the back.”
The clerk’s boredom sharpened.
He reached under the counter and opened a ledger.
Daniel felt the room tilt before the man spoke.
“Had one like that yesterday.”
“No.”
“Woman brought it in.”
Daniel’s hand flattened on the glass.
“What woman?”
The clerk shrugged.
“Older. Dressed well. Silk scarf.”
Gloria.
The name did not need to be spoken.
It arrived wearing perfume and debt.
“Where is it?”
“Sold on to a dealer this morning.”
“Get it back.”
“Not how this works.”
Daniel laughed once.
Small.
Broken.
Wrong for the room.
The clerk stepped back.
Everyone stepped back now.
Daniel picked up the legal papers with shaking hands.
A corner of one sheet had caught on a loose stitch inside the bag.
Notice of preservation.
Judge’s warning.
Repayment schedule.
All still there.
Only the watch was gone.
Of course.
Paper stayed.
Value left.
He stood in the pawn shop with his wet coat dripping onto the floor, understanding the final joke Gloria had played.
He had chosen her because he thought she would bring him wealth.
She had left him with procedure.
The clerk cleared his throat.
“You buying anything?”
Daniel gathered the socks, the charger, the papers.
Not dignity.
That would not fit in the bag anymore.
Outside, evening had lowered over the street.
His phone remained dead.
His account remained locked.
His mother’s watch was travelling away from him through hands he would never find.
At the corner, the station entrance glowed.
Warm.
Public.
Temporary.
Daniel walked towards it because there was nowhere else that would let him sit without asking whose money paid for the chair. On the station screen ahead, a news presenter was already saying Evelyn’s name.