I am becoming...

start time: 2:12 pm

As another assignment for my creative writing class, I was asked to describe the physical transformation of a protagonist, as Franz Kafka does in The Metamorphosis.

---

I am becoming my grandfather's pocketwatch. The one I misplaced a week ago.

We were in Salt Lake, and I was to load in the herds at precisely 3:08 pm, when I realized it was missing. But I still heard the ticking.

"All Aboard!" I yelled, and the steady beat persisted. It was different than the meter of my watch--this I could feel inside my bowels.

The next morning, my blue trousers seemed a bit more snug. By the end of the day, I had lost my button. It had shot off in the smoking cabin, flying through the air like an engine at full speed. My waist was widening, growing sideways so that my once narrowest part had become the broadest.

I waddled into the changing room and exchanged my uniform for a larger set. My skin felt cold as I undressed, cool and hard like metal. My face looked a dull, yellowish-bronze in the dirty mirror, like finger smudged gold. I spun myself around and noticed the faintest etch on my back: TDH.

My arms and legs shrunk. The hair on top of my head became rigged, a hinge appeared on my right side, and I felt queasy, as if something was moving around in my gut. I still had no watch and no real sense of time. But I prayed that we were on schedule, and used my internal ticking to count the minutes at each station.

But it is my job to know the time, to inform passengers of our progress, to give the appearance of quality, expertise, and efficiency. When asked, I'd rely on my knowledge of schedule and the racing scenery and guess. "We're scheduled to arrive in Sacramento at 4:09, Sir. I'd say we're about an hour away."

But today as I wobbled down the aisle, punching holes into passengers’ tickets, a woman insisted for the precise time, as I had it.

I shrugged, and pushed the bump that has been swelling atop of my head. Instantly, my jacket swung open, my belly gaping like a clam and revealing a tea-stained face with black roman numerals and hands. "11:42 on the dot."

I snapped myself closed and rolled into the next car.

end time: 3:33 pm