The watch could be anywhere. Inside yesterday's coat. Under a magazine. Between two sofa cushions. In the bathroom cabinet. At the bottom of my bag. The watch could be anywhere. It's probably at home. That's what I tell myself. Probably at home. Somewhere obvious. Somewhere small. Somewhere waiting to be found. One place. One place. One place keeps coming back. Every pocket says no. Every drawer says no. The kitchen table says no. The chair by the window says no. The morning says no. The watch says nothing. It's probably at home. Probably at home. Probably at home. I say it again because it sounds better than the alternative. One place. One place. One place keeps coming back. A lamp. A glass of water. A book with a folded corner. A jacket over the back of a chair. A room I wasn't planning to revisit today. The watch could be there. Quietly existing. Doing nothing. Keeping time for nobody. The watch could be there. One place. One place. One place keeps coming back. It's probably at home. It isn't at home. It's probably at home. It isn't at home. One place. Just one place.
