Zwitserse horloge maker

It was 8:45 am when I heard the knock. I thought to myself who in the hell could that be. That thought immediately left my head when that front door opened. Almost like I should have known, there he was. All six feet of him with hands clasped. His eyes were worn as if in defeat. I wasted no time at all to invite him in. This was the last of the many mistakes I made with him. I took his coat and he began to talk. It would be several hours until he stopped, for some reason I wish he would have never. He started with a heartfelt apology, which had probably been rehearsed on several cocktail napkins. His words smelled of bourbon and I could taste the salt in his tears. But once again I took him in. "Woman I have wronged you too many times" he sullenly squealed. His cowboy chatter would begin to pour even more. Working in my practice I have seen countless people at the end of their rope however the man before me was long dead. Time had been all but kind to him. His demons had all caught up and the noose he adorned as a neck tie looked unbearably tight. Besides the freezing cold stare he had I will never forget those hands and they clasped mine. They used to fit so perfect only now it was obvious who's hands had worn through. As I tried to pull my hands from his he only grasped tighter and fell to his knees. He crumpled before me and wept like a child. His snot and tears were uncomfortably warm on my thighs. He coughed and cried and like a summer storm it was suddenly over. He sharply stood up before me and removed from his waist the pocket watch I gave him and the hand gun I left him over. His eyes shimmered a hint of rage and then back to that cold stare. His hands knotted around my hair as he yanked my head back. The feel of that barrel on my temple was all too familiar. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to get away. He effortlessly tossed me aside and stormed out the front door. I laid on the coarse carpet and will never forget that lonely POP. I don't know what pushed me to look out that front door. Maybe it was the idea that he was at peace now and I could be as well. My father was dead at 59. How he loved that watch.