Maja was slowly cleaning out the attic in her grandmother's old tenement. The boards creaked and the dust smelled of last autumn's apples. In a corner lay a tin box with a crooked label. On the label someone had written in marker: Do not open before 2089. Maja snorted with laughter, but her hands were already tearing off the tape. Inside was a heavy watch, shiny as wet glass. Instead of hours it had a date ring and a tiny arrow. Olek, a cousin in a hooded sweatshirt, climbed into the attic. He looked at the watch and whistled quietly, a little frightened. - 'Maybe it's Grandpa's joke? You'd better not push it,' he muttered. Maja turned the ring to 1937, because she liked mysteries. The watch vibrated, as if a small engine lived inside. Somewhere below, the living room clock struck thirteen times, for no reason. The cobweb on the bar moved like a white flag. Suddenly the pointer shot forward and the air curled. The world became quiet, as if a huge hoover had pulled it in. The boards, trunks and window stretched into streaks, then disappeared. Maja and Olek stood in the same attic, but different. They could smell fresh tar on the roof and smoke from the cooker. Footsteps and conversations came from downstairs, strangely serious and fast. Someone shouted their grandmother's name, but in a younger, stranger voice. From outside, someone lifted the bolt and stopped it in half. The handle moved for the first time, very slowly and clearly.