This is a response to a challenge by another blogger called Creative Carnival. The idea is to write something related to the drawing shown below, and this is my contribution.
My granddad had one.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was dependable.
He would tenderly take it out of his pants, look at it with pride, rub it with his thumb, feel its hardness, and marvel at its reliability.
Age diminished its responsiveness. It became less constant, losing energy and vigor.
Slowly, oh so slowly, it stopped ticking.
So did my Granddad.