Lena was fourteen years old and had a key from her grandfather, a watchmaker from Rynkowa. The brass key was heavy, crunching in her pocket like a handful of old coins. On Saturday evening she climbed the clock tower, above the quiet street. The rain tapped on the roof tiles and the bell was silent, as if waiting for a visitor. Maks stayed below, guarding the torch and pretending to be a serious assistant. - 'If something rattles, shout,' he asked, and she only nodded. The staircase smelled of dust and oil, like an old workshop moved skyward. At the top waited mechanisms, gears, springs and a narrow balcony for the tuner. Lena inserted the key into the circular socket under the dial, almost invisible in the semi-darkness. As she turned it, the whole clock sighed, as if it had finally caught the right rhythm. The hands moved back a second, then two, then a few minutes. There was a rustling in the air and a sprinkling of tiny golden sparks from above the pendulum. - Lena, are you OK? - shouted Maks from below as the torchlight went out. She didn't answer as images flashed on the dial like in an old book. A market without asphalt, stalls with canvas booths, a carriage and a boy in a checkered waistcoat. Then something even older: a ford across the river, boats and smoke from hearths. Finally, the image stopped at the date stamped on the brass ring of the clock. The year 1911 flashed like a flash of lightning and spilled over all the walls. The pendulum sped up, and every movement sounded like the footsteps of someone invisible. Lena reached out her hand and felt a chill, as if she were touching ice without water. Golden sparks coiled into a ring in which numbers and syllables swirled. She heard a voice, familiar and quiet: - Lenka, don't be late for the right moment. It was her grandfather's voice, though he had died in the spring, leaving her only this key. Maks ran up the stairs, and the floor shook so hard that she squatted. - Don't move! - he shouted, but she had already seen something on the other side. A boy in a checkered waistcoat was looking straight at her and raising his hand. Behind him the posters with the date of the fair were flowing and the bell was ringing in the opposite direction. The ring widened, the air wailed, the key in the lock turned itself. Lena took a step, and then time in the tower suddenly stopped measuring seconds