Every other piece of jewelry is decoration. The watch works. The necklace is beautiful. The earrings are beautiful. The ring carries history. But they wait. They do not participate. They do not answer questions.
The watch does.
I look at mine constantly, though I rarely notice myself doing it. When I’m deciding whether to leave before the room turns. When I’m calculating whether I can make it across town without rushing. When the evening has given me enough and I’m ready to take myself back.
The watch is where I negotiate with time quietly, without witnesses.
I notice when a woman checks her watch instead of her phone.
It’s a small thing, but it reveals her immediately. The phone requires performance: a bag opened, a screen lit, the possibility of interruption invited in. The phone is porous. It leaks other people’s needs.
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