"Can you fix this?" she asked, setting it on the counter with a heavy thud. "The shop in the city said it’s obsolete, but it has all my running data from the last five years."

On the fourth night, a storm knocked out the power. In the absolute dark of the shop, Elias felt his way to the counter. He picked up the smart-watch. It was cold and light, lacking the reassuring weight of a grandfather clock's weights. But as he turned it over, he saw a small inscription etched into the back of the metal casing: Keep moving, Maya. Love, Grandpa.

"I don't do electronics," Elias said, his voice as dry as old parchment. "I restore things that have a soul."