Quartz, Coffee, and Time

It's funny how a dingy old stopwatch can change your whole life, almost overnight. When my shift started at Grind & Sip Monday morning, you'd have called me the average small-town barista. You know the kind; breathing in coffee fumes all day and spouting witty comments, like "Decaf? Really, in 2023?" half for the customers' joy and half to pass the time. That's the operative word here—time. Surburia, our quaint town, was a winsome place caught somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow. Most folks were regulars who flowed through their routines so precisely, it felt like they ran on a finely-tuned watch. And me? Heck, I was the oddball with a fascination for timepieces. I'd tinker with every clock and watch I could lay my hands on. I lost hours, days even, just looking, listening. So when the contents of Grandpa Reggie's rusty toolbox fell open one evening, leaving an old, intricate stopwatch amongst the clutter, you'd best believe I was riveted. Ignoring my typical TikTok deep dives, I began toying largely with the watch, whenever time slipped away unseen—a bitter irony, that. For days, it just ticked oddly, as if counting odd intervals. But Monday—oh, Monday—it went berserk. I remember the moment precisely; it was a little after two, just as Mandy ordered her usual double-mocha frappe. That's when the hands of Grandpa Reggie's stopwatch began spinning backward, fast as a two-faced politician caught in a lie. “Whoa, Tim! You okay?” Mandy asked, noticing the shock on my face. Suddenly, everything blurred. Customers froze. Knocks clattered mid-air. So, in disbelief, did my heart. Then, like some magician’s trick, we were back at nine o'clock, eight hours erased like chalk on a board. “Hey, sleep in today, Timbo?" Jerry, the grumbling retiree, observed, ambling through just as he did every morning without fail. I blinked rapidly, my brain aching to keep up with the twirl of memories and reality. The stopwatch lay still in my grasp once more—a resolute guardian, indifferent to the day's dizzying antics. Now, I know what you might think—curse, gift, or gimmick? I thought all the above too, and more. Believing I could rewrite my missteps, fix botched orders, maybe even patch things with Ali, my redhead ex, the allure just seemed magnetic. Days turned to weeks while I tinkered and played in my own hermetic world of borrowed seconds. I began testing limits, working alongside Maddie, trying to completely exorcise Monday's mundane. Nothing came without its shadow, though. As each fresh morning drifted in, anxiety rolled alongside it, a storm brewing. Mandy began commenting about strange deja vus—half-forgotten memories on repeat. Subburia itself felt loopy, like a scratched record. I was learning one outlandish thing: You can replay a song, but you can't capture that first golden note exactly. Then there was Matt, owner of the oddities shop across town. He noticed ways the wind danced or the recent snow melted. “Always felt there was something more than just coffee grounds brewing here,” he’d say while sipping macchiatos. Finally, one afternoon when clocks burrowed close and the sky dove into twilight, it hit: I was tearing us apart. Matt, weirdly enough, stood beside me when the panic flared. “Howdy, partner,” he greeted casually, grinning. I must’ve resembled a mad hatter—confession was immediate. “Only by stopping the stopwatch will the present find its true way, friend,” Matt nodded, like he'd always known. For a heartbeat, doubt coiled around me, urging more tweaks, offering untold chances at perfection. But watching that sparkling gadget lay finally still in my pocket, quotas slammed in—how precious, how unpredictable today should always be. Now, do I long to have stolen a few more hours, mastered a few more mistakes? Sure! But there's something warmly wonderful knowing you find harmony between expectation and surprise. Admittedly, Ali and I did meet up again. We're still catching up and laughing, together spinning tales from times past, while sipping lattes by Grind & Sip's ticking clock. As for clocks? They remain my fervent love affair, but every swing of the pendulum in today's morn feels more thrilling, unrefined. Life and coffee both taste better unfiltered. Truth is, I learned my favorite time is right this very moment.