(S1) Chapter 1- The Things We Don’t Fix
“Squeak—”
The front door groaned as it swung open.
Henry rushed inside, his footsteps echoing through the vast, hollow mansion.
“Dad?!” His voice cracked as it carried down the marble hallway. “Dad, are you home?”
The house felt wrong.
It felt——
Empty.
He moved toward the living room, drawn by the faint glow of the television.
The sharp tick-tock of a clock echoed somewhere in the house, though he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
The television flickered.
A woman’s voice filled the room, urgent and breathless.
“Breaking news! Lawson Technologies has declared bankruptcy. The prestigious company will be shutting down effective immediately—”
Henry stumbled back as if someone had struck him.
“N-no… that can’t be…”
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
The sound grew louder.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He clamped his hands over his ears, but the ticking only seemed to echo inside his skull.
“Dad!”
Panic seized him. He bolted for the staircase, his shoes slipping slightly against polished marble.
“Dad! Where are you?!”
Bang!
The sound shattered the air.
Henry froze, as the world went silent around him.
Everything except—
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he forced himself up the remaining stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last.
The white marble stretched endlessly before him.
At the end of the hall stood the solid oak doors to his father’s office.
Henry’s hand trembled as he reached for the handle. His eyes squeezed shut, as if refusing to see whatever waited beyond.
“D-Dad?”
The door creaked open.
A dark stain crept across the black carpet and spilled onto the pristine white marble at his feet.
Blood.
Henry’s breath caught.
Slowly—painfully—he forced himself to look up.
His father lay motionless on the floor, a shattered watch clutched tightly in his hand.
“DAAAAD!”
—
“Argh!”Henry jolted upright in bed.
The blankets tangled around him as he shoved them aside, gasping for air. Cold sweat clung to his skin, sliding down his spine.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
The broken watch ticked as he stared at it, chest rising and falling too fast.
“Just a nightmare,” he muttered to himself. “Just a nightmare.”
But the ticking didn’t stop.
It never did.
A door slammed downstairs.
Henry turned toward the window.
He parted the blinds with two fingers to see what was going on outside.
Ava stood beside her motorcycle and fastened her helmet.
Henry looked at her hoping she would look back and wave like she used to….
She never did.
The engine roared to life, and seconds later she sped down the street, disappearing from view.
Henry let the blinds fall shut.
He quickly got dressed to start his day. His clothes were clean but worn, the fabric thinning at the edges.
He used to own tailored suits. Now he wore jackets that sagged at the shoulders.
As he buttoned his shirt, a mechanical voice echoed through the small bedroom.
“Incoming call.”
“From who?” Henry asked tiredly.
“Contact listed as: Boss. Do you wish to answer?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
The room fell quiet. Then the faint sound of someone breathing too close to a microphone was heard.
“Henry, where the hell are you?!”
“Good morning to you too, George.”
“Don’t get smart with me. I am not in the mood.”
“When are you ever…” Henry muttered under his breath.
George barked something at someone nearby before returning to the call.
“Where are you? Don’t make me ask a third time.”
“I’m getting ready—”
“You’re just getting ready?! I needed you here minutes ago!”
“My shift doesn’t start until—”
“Your shift starts when I say it does,” George snapped. “You have fifteen minutes. Get here. Or don’t bother coming at all.”
The line went dead.
Henry stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment before slipping on his worn jacket.
“No coffee today,” he muttered.
He descended the creaking stairs and stepped out into the cold morning air.
—
Fifteen minutes later, Henry stepped out of his automatic car and looked up at the rundown building.
A large sign hung crooked above the garage doors:
George’s Auto Repair
You Break It, We Fix It
“Real original,” Henry muttered, fighting back a faint smile.
Inside, the scent of oil and metal greeted him.
George stood behind the counter, already glaring.
“You’re late.”
“Really?” Henry glanced down at his watch. “Strange. Seems to be broken.”
George’s eyes flickered to the old watch on Henry’s wrist. For just a second—just a flicker—something softer crossed his face.
Then it vanished.
“You should’ve thrown that thing away years ago,” George said gruffly. “Might’ve helped you move on.”
Henry said nothing.He just walked over to hang his coat on the hook.
“So,” he said lightly, “you got jobs for me? Or did you just miss me?”
George grunted.
“We’ll get to that. But first…” He leaned against the counter. “How are you holding up?”
Henry stiffened. “What?”
“You. And Ava.” George’s voice lowered. “Haven’t seen you two over since… you know.”
Henry cut him off before the name could be spoken.
“We’re fine, George. Really.”
He turned away and busied himself at the computer, the screen blurring slightly as he forced his thoughts elsewhere.
“Marie would like to see Ava,” George continued carefully. “You both should come by this week.”
Henry’s jaw tightened.
“Okay. What’s going on? Why the sudden interest?”
“Can’t I care about my family”
Henry stayed silent, deciding to let the sound of wind rattling the shop be his answer.
With a sigh, George picked up his datapad.
“I’ve got six customers for you today. VR capsule repairs. Should be simple. Finish those, and you can call it a day.”
Henry nodded.
Without another word, he grabbed the repair kit from the garage and headed back toward the company car.
Another day fixing broken machines.
Henry looks down at his father watch, maybe one day I can fix this too.
