His devoted quarters remained. The unmade bed, the bar of soap resting in its dish, everything as he had left them. He thought he was returning home and continue on as their keeper.
Upon arrival at the hospital, he noticed his faithful timepiece had stopped. His perpetual movement is what winds it, yet as he lay looking at its dial, all hands were at rest. Of all the years, hours, minutes and seconds of wearing it, not once did it fail him. He thought, was this an omen of coming times?