That afternoon, Emma couldn’t focus. Every hallway reminded her of Johnny — the polished floors, the locked supply closets, the gleaming windows. Everything he’d done for years was still there. Only he wasn’t.
She called the school board. She asked if Johnny had ever taken a vacation. “Once,” they said. “In 1998. A family emergency.”
The next morning, Emma drove to Johnny’s small house on the edge of town. He lived alone. His wife had passed years earlier, and he had no children.
He answered the door with a surprised look.
“I’m here to say I made a mistake,” Emma said. “I fired you without thinking. Without respect. I’m so sorry. And I’d like to ask you to come back.”
Johnny shook his head.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “But I think it’s time I rest a little.”
He invited her in for tea. They talked for an hour. Emma asked about his life. He told her stories from the early days of the school. He remembered every teacher, every renovation, every storm that had ever knocked out the power.
Before she left, Johnny handed her the watch.
“You keep it,” he said. “Let it remind you to look closer next time.”
