The Only Door That Opened When the Others Closed

“It is a proper tool for a proper artist,” Carol said, her voice gentle.

Ivy looked down at Carol’s wrist, noticing the pale, bare skin where her grandmother’s gold wind-up watch usually sat.

The watch had been in the family for forty years, its tiny face surrounded by small, delicate engravings.

“Your watch,” Ivy said, looking up at her aunt’s face.