Time is the one thing everyone wishes they had more of—but what if you could actually buy yourself another day?
Daniel was the kind of man who lived in a hurry. His calendar was always full, his phone never silent, and his dreams… well, they sat at the bottom of a dusty drawer, waiting for “someday.” Every night, he whispered the same words before falling asleep: “If only I had more time.”
One stormy evening, as rain tapped against his window, Daniel dozed off at his desk. In his dream, a strange old man appeared—thin, with silver hair and eyes that glowed like clock hands in the dark. He wore a coat stitched with gears and carried a golden pocket watch that ticked louder than thunder.
“Time is never enough, is it?” the man asked, his voice echoing as though from a cavern.
Daniel, too tired to question, simply nodded.
The man extended the watch. “This will give you one extra day. But be careful—it is not a gift, it is a loan.”
When Daniel woke up, the golden watch sat gleaming on his desk. He laughed nervously, assuming he had finally worked himself into madness. But curiosity gnawed at him. He pressed the button on the watch—and everything froze. His phone didn’t ring, his calendar didn’t move. The world continued, but time itself had bent for him.
He had done it. He had borrowed tomorrow.
At first, it was intoxicating. With each “extra day,” Daniel became unstoppable. He finally finished his novel, learned to play guitar, and even gathered the courage to tell Claire—the woman he had secretly loved for years—how he felt. To his delight, she said yes. Life was sweeter with bonus days.
But soon, Daniel noticed strange things. Flowers in his garden wilted overnight. His reflection grew lines his face shouldn’t yet know. Street clocks stuttered and skipped beats when he passed.
One evening, when he pressed the watch again, nothing happened. Instead, cracks spread across its golden surface, and he heard the old man’s voice again: “Time cannot be borrowed forever, Daniel. Every extra tomorrow steals from your future.”
Fear gripped him. He realized all those “bonus days” had not come free—they had been taken from the end of his life. The watch shattered into dust, leaving Daniel in silence.
From that day forward, he never wished for more hours or more days. Instead, he woke early, lived boldly, and loved fiercely, knowing that each day was already enough—if only he used it well.
| Time is the one thing everyone wishes they had more of—but what if you could actually buy yourself another day? Daniel was the kind of man who lived in a hurry. His calendar was always full, his phone never silent, and his dreams… well, they sat at the bottom of a dusty drawer, waiting for “someday.” Every night, he whispered the same words before falling asleep: “If only I had more time.” One stormy evening, as rain tapped against his window, Daniel dozed off at his desk. In his dream, a strange old man appeared—thin, with silver hair and eyes that glowed like clock hands in the dark. He wore a coat stitched with gears and carried a golden pocket watch that ticked louder than thunder. “Time is never enough, is it?” the man asked, his voice echoing as though from a cavern. Daniel, too tired to question, simply nodded. The man extended the watch. “This will give you one extra day. But be careful—it is not a gift, it is a loan.” When Daniel woke up, the golden watch sat gleaming on his desk. He laughed nervously, assuming he had finally worked himself into madness. But curiosity gnawed at him. He pressed the button on the watch—and everything froze. His phone didn’t ring, his calendar didn’t move. The world continued, but time itself had bent for him. He had done it. He had borrowed tomorrow. At first, it was intoxicating. With each “extra day,” Daniel became unstoppable. He finally finished his novel, learned to play guitar, and even gathered the courage to tell Claire—the woman he had secretly loved for years—how he felt. To his delight, she said yes. Life was sweeter with bonus days. But soon, Daniel noticed strange things. Flowers in his garden wilted overnight. His reflection grew lines his face shouldn’t yet know. Street clocks stuttered and skipped beats when he passed. One evening, when he pressed the watch again, nothing happened. Instead, cracks spread across its golden surface, and he heard the old man’s voice again: “Time cannot be borrowed forever, Daniel. Every extra tomorrow steals from your future.” Fear gripped him. He realized all those “bonus days” had not come free—they had been taken from the end of his life. The watch shattered into dust, leaving Daniel in silence. From that day forward, he never wished for more hours or more days. Instead, he woke early, lived boldly, and loved fiercely, knowing that each day was already enough—if only he used it well. |
