Home

Elsie scanned the endless rows of dusty teacups, each chipped and faded. The antique shop felt like a graveyard of memories, and a shiver of confirmation danced down her spine. A glint of gold caught her eye. Tucked in a corner, a pocket watch gleamed, its face etched with swirling constellations.

Elsie picked it up, it felt cool to the touch. The second hand twitched, then began a frantic spin, its journey blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope. The shop dissolved, replaced by a field of tall sunflowers, their golden faces catching the setting sun in an ectasy of bliss.. A laugh, a memory, warm and alive. A woman with hair the colour of wheat knelt beside her, weaving daisy chains. Home.

The world flickered, the sunflowers wilting, replaced by the sterile white walls of the shop. Tears welled in Elsie’s eyes. The watch, still warm in her hand, ticked steadily now. Home wasn’t a place, she realized, but a feeling. A feeling she carried within her, a reminder of golden fields and a love that transcended time.

Elsie clutched the watch, a fierce possessiveness warming her. This, this was a piece of home she could hold onto. She turned, the graveyard of memories suddenly less intimidating, and walked out, the past a comforting presence in her pocket.