I’m completely sober waiting with my unbalanced and slurring friends outside of a nightclub. My white button-down shirt is stained with someone else’s vodka and Coke. I look down at my Tissot Everytime. The dial reads 11 o’clock. We have been standing in line since before 10. We’re in an alleyway standing next to a red brick building. The line stretches around the corner from the club. I sigh and question whether it’s worth the wait. A group of laughing girls in tight, shiny dresses and black heels stumble out of the club and we move to the front of the line. The bald bouncer asks for our IDs and then we’re in.

I descend the stairs to see a room packed wall to wall with teenagers. Some of the revellers are no doubt underage. My friends and I dance amongst the people. The polished beads-of-rice bracelet of my Tissot Everytime sparkles in the flashing, coloured lights of the club. My flailing arms hit a pole as I attempt to dance. If it weren’t for the deafening R&B music, I might have heard a loud “ding!” from the collision. With droplets of sweat dripping down my furrowed brow, I check my wrist, but the sapphire crystal and the case of my watch are unscathed. I slip the Tissot Everytime under my shirt cuff for the rest of the night to avoid any further incidents. Its slim case disappears beneath the cotton cuff with ease.

I wake up to a loud ticking under my pillow. I’m still wearing the Tissot Everytime. The quartz movement is loud in my otherwise silent bedroom. I remove my arm from under the pillow to check the time. Even with my weary eyes, I can read the uncomplicated dial. I decide I need more rest. My eyelids grow heavy and everything fades to black.