In the clock shop at Brzozowa 5, no one was ever in a hurry. The ticking here was like the breath of home: quiet, even, soothing. The display glittered with glass, brass and honey-coloured wood, and inside it smelled of resin and lime tea. Grandfather Iwo crouched by the huge standing clock and polished the pendulum as carefully as if he were stroking the wing of a bird. Nina leaned her rucksack against the countertop, took off her cap and looked at her phone. No message. The phone had been silent since yesterday and this silence was as heavy as a stone in her pocket. She felt a strange thrumming of emotions inside: anger like a sharp button that won't go through the loop, and longing like a rubber band that pulls your hair when you need to tie a ponytail. - Pensive again? - puzzled Grandpa, without raising his eyes. - A little - she admitted. - Today at school we talked about naming feelings. The lady said that if you name it, it gets lighter. It's just... I don't know how to name everything at once. Grandpa put the cloth down. - Feelings rarely stand in line. Sometimes they come in the door all at once and it becomes a squeeze. It happens to clocks too - he pointed to a shelf where three small alarm clocks were ticking side by side. - See? Each with a different rhythm, yet they play together. Nina smiled faintly. She liked this place. She also liked that her grandfather could talk about ordinary things as if they were a map to something bigger. She moved her fingers across the dials until she stopped at something she hadn't noticed before. At the very end of the shop, behind a row of chain watches, stood a tall dark wood clock, a little dusty, with an inscription stamped in small letters: Heart of the City. - This one? - She asked in a whisper. - I don't associate it. Grandfather Iwo squinted his eyes. - It was standing at Mr Sobecki's in the attic before he brought it in. He said he hadn't been ticking since his wife died. - He shrugged his shoulders. - Sometimes things have their moods. Nina walked closer. The dial was wide, and instead of the usual numerals at the outer edge there were tiny inscriptions like on an old compass: peace, joy, fear, anger, shame, pride, longing, relief, curiosity, courage. In the middle was a small, round glass, behind which something shimmered with a barely perceptible light. - May I? - She asked. - 'Let him try,' smiled the grandfather, as if pleased that someone had paid attention to the forgotten giant. - Just be careful. Nina gently touched the glass. The clock immediately responded with one very quiet but distinct tick. Then another, exactly in the rhythm of her heart. She felt her cheeks grow hot. - It was... - she started, but ran out of words. - Sensitised - her grandfather prompted. - Maybe it's reacting to you. - But how? - Nina leaned over and read the words at the edge. She wanted to try. - 'Fear,' she whispered, uncertainly, as if she was afraid of offending the wood. The seconds hand twitched and took one tiny step. The clock made a sound that did not sound like an ordinary ticking. It was softer, like tapping a finger on the surface of water. - Anger," she added more quietly. This time it vibrated with a warm, low tone, as if from the bottom of a box. Inside the mechanism, something hissed and flared stronger for a moment. - Let me see... - Grandfather tilted the front and looked in. - There you go. Here's the panel - he moved a small brass flap. Something clicked and a narrow drawer slid out from the side wall. Inside, on a red ribbon, lay a small key and a note. Nina grabbed the paper. The writing was even, fine, very neat. "When the heart trembles, don't run away. Name. 20:12." The shop suddenly became quieter, as if all the clocks had taken a simultaneous intake of breath. Nina glanced at her phone: it was 7:20 p.m. She felt a carousel turn in her stomach - not from anxiety, more from curiosity mixed with cautious hope. - 'I don't remember that drawer,' her grandfather admitted, squinting even more. - I'd swear it wasn't here. - Can I take the key? - Nina asked, feeling the warmth of the metal in her fingers. The key was shaped like a leaf, and the initial N was embossed on its belly. - 'Let it stay here for now,' decided Grandpa. - I still have to go to Tadzio's for chess. I'll close the shop at eight o'clock. If you want to sit with Kacper until ten o'clock, I'll give you a spare key. - He smiled mysteriously, but Nina didn't call the word. - Just don't dismantle anything. Before she had time to answer, the door rang, someone came in to buy a watch strap, and then Grandpa left, leaving them with tea in a thermos and a plate of shortbread biscuits. Nina immediately sent a message to Kacper: "Come. Something weird is going on. Seriously. Brzozowa 5." Kacper appeared as quickly as if he lived around the corner, which was true. He ran in breathless, with his hair in disarray and his jacket buttoned to one button. - What is it this time? - He chuckled, but there was no derision in his voice. He knew Nina and knew that 'strange' in her rendition did not mean 'made up'. - Look - she showed the clock and the card. - It reacts to what I say. To the feelings. And at 20:12... I don't know what's going to happen. Kacper put his ear to the case. - I hear like... two rhythms? One slower, the other faster. - 'Maybe mine and yours,' Nina said and unexpectedly giggled, although she wasn't particularly cheerful. - See these words on the edge. - Calmness - he read. - 'You might want to start there. - He grunted and said clearly: - Calm. The clock answered with a glazed, bell-like note, quiet as the morning rain. The seconds hand glided smoothly. Inside, something blinked with a cold blue light. - 'And now... courage,' Nina added, feeling a sting in her chest as she feared that courage was a word that came to her too rarely. The mechanism sighed. The note was as bright as the sun reflected in the glass. On the dial, right next to 'courage', the embossed letters seemed to have gained clarity. - 'I'd love a cup of tea,' muttered Kacper, but instead of reaching for the thermos, he couldn't take his eyes off the clock. - This is... well, different. Time was passing. The clock didn't stop responding. At 'longing', a quiet, long-sounding tone resounded, which Nina didn't shudder at, but instead vibrated inside her like a string that someone had tugged gently. At the 'anger' a brief thump rolled inside. When Nina uttered "relief", all the little alarm clocks shuddered at the same time, as if taking a breather. - 20:09 - read Kacper. - Three more minutes. And what are we waiting for? - We're waiting - she confirmed. - But first... - She glanced at the word 'curiosity'. - Curiosity. The pointer of the second turned once, rattled like tiny beads and stopped exactly at the top. At the same moment, a crack of light appeared in the brass flap, the one from the drawer. Nina squeezed the key in her hand in spite of herself. - 20:10 - said Kacper, already in a whisper. - I think it's about to happen. The shop grew darker. Outside the window the streetlights were going out, as if someone had advanced along the street and switched them off one by one. The ticking, which had previously been background, now sounded like an orchestra: one clock as high as a violin, another as low as a double bass, a third as punchy as a triangle. It all came together in a rhythm that Nina's heart recognised as her own. - 20:11 - Kacper began counting silently. - Fifty... fifty-one.... - 'I know you're scared,' Nina said suddenly, to herself, although she wasn't sure who she was saying it to. - 'Me too.' - And then she added: - Courage. As 'courage' left her lips, something happened. All the clues in the shop stood still for a split second. The air stopped as if someone had rolled it up. And then - 20:12 - the Heart of the City second hand jerked backwards. The clock whined cleanly, a long, long whine, until a rasping sound came from behind a shelf of pocket watches. A slab of old wood, hitherto as even as a wall, moved away to the thickness of a finger. A stream of cool air flowed from inside, smelling of an unfamiliar place: alternately damp earth and May lilacs. - Can you see it? - Kacper took a step to the side so as not to obstruct. - I think it's... - he broke off, not finding the word. Nina nodded. The key was still steaming in her hand, as if demanding to be used. There was a flash of what looked like a step in the gap, and a flash as if from metal. From deep within came a quiet, pulsating sound, in tune with the tune that all the clocks had just played. - 'If it's a deaf corridor, we'll go together,' choked out Kacper, but it sounded more like a question than a statement. - 'Just for a moment,' replied Nina, although neither of them believed in 'a moment'. - 'I'm going to check that the key fits first. She walked over to the hole. At the edge, just above the tooth of the wood, was a small round teardrop-shaped hole. The leafy key rested in her fingers like a bird about to take flight. As she pressed it against the lock, the pulsating sound from within took on a strong sound, and the light in the glass eye of the clock illuminated the dial with a bright, warm glow. Nina took in a breath. - 'Calm,' she whispered, as if to give it to herself as a gift for courage. And then, in the very gap, something moved. Like a shadow that has no owner. - Nina... - Kacper took her by the elbow. She did not look away. She pressed the key, felt a slight click. The wall vibrated and swung wider until the cool air enveloped their faces. A thin streak of light slid across the floor, hitting straight on her notebook, from which a sheet of paper with drawings of birds-emoji-slid out. It swirled, as if swept away by an invisible gust, and disappeared into a crevice. - Hey! - snarled Nina, but instead of moving, she froze. A whisper came from the darkness - someone had said her name. Slowly. Clearly. As if he had known it forever.