For some odd reason, Zucker placed his grandfather’s inherited Waltham wristwatch on the bookshelf to the left of his dresser where he usually puts it at night. The bookcase top, nearly three feet from the ground, was a shrine of sorts where the bears and the monkey rested, along with his father’s Mason Pearson comb, and an old jar, once full of the best honey in the world.
Also there was a little wooden carving of a dog that Zucker made for his grandfather, the same grandfather, when he was thirteen. It rests now, laminated in dark overtones and lightly caked in dust and time. That little carving alone holds a wealth of stories from its previous life with Zucker’s grandfather. There was a strange air in the room. Even as Zucker turned off the lights and went to bed, the watch and the dog connected in ways beyond compare.