The strap was worn, the face scratched, and the clasp had always been a little stiff.

Its value was that Dad had saved for months to give it to me when Buckeye opened.

Through counsel, I asked whether it could be returned as personal property.

Months later, a small padded envelope arrived at Lena’s office.

Inside was the watch.

Monica had not included a note.

I turned it over in my hands.

The second hand still moved, though it lost time.