Mother.
A single word, and yet... it is one rich with emotion and meaning.
She loved him, he knew this in the depth of his heart. And truly, she wanted the best for him. And yet... it was clear to him that he disappointed her with his acceptance of his inheritance of his father's watch shop. Of taking on "that woman" as his partner.
With how he settled for being a simple tradesman in a world that was swiftly advancing beyond artisan trades such as watches that required gears. Never mind that he was equally skilled at repairing the latest quartz based watches.
And thus, he continued to pull at her apron string, following her as he always had.
The knowledge that she was all he had.
He had no friends.
No peers.
Only 'clients'.
It was clear to him that they only saw him as this earnest young man with the skills to fix their expensive watches, and yet, he would great them with a smile. Remembering their names and their watches.
Then, there was "that woman" as his mother called her. The sly partner who invested in his shop, who only worked now and then on commission pieces. She treated him as an equal, but hardly a peer. She was an artisan who crafted new wonders, and he a simple tradesman who fixed what was broken.
Unlike him, she made full use of her skills and [essence]... she held none of the pride that he had. And that was why she called herself an artisanm and him a simple tradesman.
The sun had set, and still he continued to work. Putting truth to the label "that woman" had assigned him.
Cleaning, adjusting, nudging the tiny gears just so... until, as if by magic, something clicked and the springs pushed the gears to move once more.
Tick, tock, as the saying went, goes the clock.
There was a smile of satisfaction as he placed the watch with its polished leather handle down in its labeled case.
Putting on his jacket didn't take long, nor did going over the shop to make sure everything was secured and in place.
It was second nature to him to arm the alarm system, and to lock the door behind him.
The store locked behind him, he walked towards his home where mother waited, a whistle upon his lip, a polite smile and nod to all that he met.
[X] A sudden encounter along the way... why was someone trying to kill him?
[X] A sudden encounter along the way... of course, he would help. He was a nice man.
[X] A visitor was waiting for him at his home, someone his mother knew, perhaps?
[X] Write In.