2380. Coromo said, “This pocket watch is dead, as so is my Grandfather.” If a chemist were to have a look at that old watch this many years later he would be able to detect the presence of salt residue in the springs, and the little levers. The salt was there because it entered the watch with Coromo’s tears.
2381. With those tears he gave up the task of watch
repair, and put it out of his mind altogether. Now twenty years had
passed and here was the unfinished watch repair job he had not
2382. Here was the clock case, the clock mechanism, five
of the six screws he had removed, and the spring. The smaller parts
were in a little piece of paper folded into an envelope and taped shut.
In the box there was also that flat metal piece that had held the spring
down, but the sixth screw was never found. Such was the thoroughness of
2383. Last, but not least was Coromo’s birth certificate. He had never seen this document before because his Grandmother had been careful never to let him see it. She was afraid that if he knew the information it contained it would disturb his mind, and give him ideas beyond what she considered to be his station, and her choice of his destiny in life.