Spring 1990 • Vol. XII No. 2 April 1, 1990 |

The Wristwatch

In the morning, after he'd dressed, he looked for his wristwatch on the nightstand and discovered that it was missing. He looked in the drawer and on the floor, under the bed. It was nowhere to be seen. He looked in the bathroom, checked the pockets of his jacket, his pants. He looked downstairs in the kitchen, the living room. He went out to check the car. He went to the basement and looked through the laundry. He went back upstairs and looked everywhere again. He said "Have you seen my watch?" to his wife, to his children. "I'm sure I left it on the nightstand." He became obsessed with finding the watch. He removed all the drawers from the dresser one by one, emptying their contents onto the bedroom floor. Impossible. Someone must have come in the night and taken it. A watch thief, who with great stealth and cunning, disdaining silverware, jewelry, cameras, fine art, money, had made his way to the bedside and stolen his Timex wristwatch. Perhaps his wife had, for years, been harbo

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