It was an antique shop no one remembered entering, yet everyone swore had always been there. On a rainy afternoon, Daniel stepped inside, drawn by the chime of a grandfather clock.

The clock was strange—its pendulum swung in reverse, and its hands moved steadily backward. The old shopkeeper smiled when Daniel asked about it.

“Not every clock counts time forward,” he whispered. “Some return what was lost.”

Curiosity overcame caution. Daniel touched the cold brass hand, and suddenly, memories that weren’t his flooded his mind—wars fought, loves lost, lives unlived. His own reflection in the glass looked decades older.

The shopkeeper leaned closer.

“You’ve borrowed from the past. Now, the past will borrow from you.”