Two days ago,the watch maker turned 50.
Two days ago, the executive also turned 50.
Yesterday, the watch maker spread his mat on the neatly swept market ground.
Yesterday the executive strode into his office, beaming at the flattering compliments of his employees.
The watch maker spread his wares on the straw mat, carefully dusting each piece with a lingering caress.
The executive sunk into his leather chair, letting out a soft sigh. He picked the morning paper his secretary had left on the polished table.
The watchmaker sat for hours, fixing watch after watch. With legs folded under him like an Arab genie, his calloused fingers turned the delicate pieces, the single scar running down his nose dripping with sweat.
The executive was busy all day, sitting through meeting after meeting, a hurriedly consumed lunch in between.
Night fell and the watch maker left the market, walking with light firm steps,his precious creations wrapped in a bundle under his arm..
The executive left the office early yesterday. His wife had called. She had a surprise waiting.
The watch maker walked along the lonely highway.
The executive zoomed off , foot straining on the accelerator.
The watch maker saw the car too late. There was a soft thud and the sick crack of bone hitting tarmac.
The executive tried to swerve the car off the road and the wheel spun out of his hands. The brakes shrieked and the car flipped once, twice and then lay still on its side, a steaming, mangled heap of steel and blood.
Today,the watch maker won’t be at the market.
Today,the executive’s chair will be empty.