The Clock in the Hall

My grandfather has an old clock. It stands in the hall, near the door.

The clock is one hundred years old. His father buys it in a small shop.

Every hour, the clock makes a soft sound. Ding. Ding.

"This clock knows my family," my grandfather says. "It sees my father. It sees me. Now it sees you."

I put my hand on the dark wood. It feels warm.

At night, I am in bed and I hear the clock. Ding. Ding.

I close my eyes. The house is quiet and safe.