Nicolas didn't like cleaning out his great-grandmother's attic. However, a storm had shut him out of the house and the electricity was flashing. On the shelf, next to the jars of nails, was an old watch. It was really heavy, silver and cold as ice. Someone had carved the initials M.R. and the year 1903 on the lid. The old string smelled of dust and laundry soap. When he moved it, the watch vibrated and clicked quietly. Nikolai opened the lid and held his breath for a moment. The second hand ran backwards, like a small fish against the current. "Amazing," he whispered very quietly, catching the crown with his fingers. He tried carefully to turn the time back a few minutes. The metal was smooth, as if someone had just polished it. Suddenly all the clocks in the house played the same beat. The raindrops on the glass hesitated and began to rise. The world took on a different colour, a little amber and old. The cardboard boxes in the attic disappeared and the boards glistened with fresh resin. The clatter of horses' hooves and the ringing of a tram could be heard. Through the window, Nikolai saw a street without cars or neon signs. A newspaper with the date 12 May 1908 lay on the windowsill. His tenement looked young, like a framed postcard. The watch chimed a second time, this time like a warning. From the stairs came quick footsteps and a whisper: "Maks, where have you gone?". Nikolai froze, for no one had called him that. The initials M.R. shimmered on the lid like fresh ink. Someone tugged open the attic flap and peeked inside. Glasses and something that looked like an identical watch flashed in the shadows. "You only have three minutes," - said the stranger, raising his hand.