Unlike a person, the watch was born in pieces. Its golden case was poured gently into a mold. Heat seeped into sand, leaving the final form behind. Gears were lovingly crafted by hand with repetitive caresses with the abrasive touch of a file. A precisely painted face was created as fine hairs left trails of the blackest ink. The spring was tightly and properly wound, boundless energy imbued in steel. When all the pieces were assembled by skillful hands, its first tick was akin to a heartbeat.

The watch was born a very long time ago. It does not know exactly when, no one bothers to tell a watch the time. Also unlike a person, the watch measures the length of its existence by the lives of those who carried it.

At first, the watch lived in a glass case bathed in the light of the sun. Faces would peek out from the other side and stare at it. Sometimes they would even pick up the watch. They would feel the weight of it, the smooth metal finish, and the twist of the knob. The watch would then be handed back to owner, who quickly wiped the evidence of their touch, and put it back behind glass. This did not bother watch, all the watch wanted to do was tick.

The first person who took the watch was a woman. Her fingers were soft and her touch softer. She had a smile that illuminated the dingy little store and smelled faintly of lilacs.  The woman had the owner scratch what the watch assumed was words on the inside of its case. The watch was just happy for fresh air, right until it was placed inside a small dark box.

Not long after, the watch came to its second owner. He was overjoyed when he opened the box and found it inside. His hands were rougher and his eyes filled with mirth.  Holding the watch, he gave the woman smelling of lilacs a peck on the cheek. The watch spent several hours enjoying sunlight before being delicately set into a pocket.

Such a festive scene was not to be again. What the watch did witness was something far different. There a symphony of loud booms, small ones that cracked and popped, and others that rolled like thunder. The air was heavy with the odor of wet earth and blood.  The watch did not like this new place at all.

Sometimes the man with the mirthful eyes seemed to forget the watch was there. It stayed safely in his pocket, while the world around him was anything else. Other times, he clutched so tightly to the watch, as if his grip would protect his life from the shears of fate.

It did not.

The man lay in stunned silence, covered in mud and barbed wire. The watch sat quietly in his hand, mournful, but grateful that its own hands were continuing to move. What else mattered in the end?

The sun had passed across the sky once, before the watch had been found again. It was another man, dressed in a different uniform and speaking a strange language. He pried the piece of gold from cold fingers and hastily stuffed the watch into a pocket.

After a few more noisy battles, the watch traveled across a dark tempestuous sea. Life then became very routine for the watch. The scratchy uniform was traded for fine silk lined pockets. Booms were replaced with laughter. Memories of odorous fumes were overpowered by cigar smoke and high end liquor. 

One day, the watch was put back into a box. It was opened by a young man that looked a great deal like the one in the suit. The boy was gracious and subdued; the man smiled appropriately.

From what the watch understood, the boy decided that the time piece was good luck. To maintain a positive relationship with fortune, he held on to the watch constantly. Years went by with his hands in a pocket, fingers wrapped protectively around the watch. The watch witnessed as those fingers slowly became gnarled and withered. Yet their grip never wavered.

Decades later the watch found itself a room the smelt of chemicals and was glaringly white. There were no pockets to comfortably rest in, only the bony fingers to clutch. Oddly, there was a second, louder, ticking in the room. The watch felt superior in the knowledge that its tick was perfectly rhythmic and constant, unlike this newcomer.

People came and went, filling and emptying the room. Some cried, others spoke softly, a few even laughed with the man in the bed. The man remained still and held tight to the watch. One day when the second ticking had gotten slow and followed a strange beat, the man held the watch high and spoke. He whispered sagely of the unparalleled persistence of time. As silence grew in the room and the watch was again the sole sound, it could not help but agree.