The young man moved through the alleyway, his eyes scanning the ground for anything interesting. He was dressed in a faded denim jacket and worn knickerbockers, both of which were exploits of his last delve.
He had long straight dark maroon hair tied back in a ponytail, and a fancy bowler hat perched atop his head.
As he approached the large green dumpster, the smell of rotting food and other waste hit him, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he dove in with grace, his hands swimming through the garbage, searching for hidden treasures.
And then he saw it. A dirty suit jacket with a strange yellowish-green splotch on the lapel. He carefully lifted it out of the garbage, admiring the design and the way it seemed to shimmer in the light.
The suit jacket was a sight to behold, despite its current state. The fabric seemed to have once been a clean ivory white, and even though it was several shades darker due to the filth it still held its beauty. It was clear that it was once a luxurious piece of clothing. The lapels were wide and bold, the buttons made of shiny silver metal. The inside was lined with silk, and there were intricate patterns sewn into the fabric that were barely visible beneath the grime and dirt.
"Wow, this is really something," he whispered to himself, holding it up to his body to see how it fit. It was a little tight around the chest, but he didn't mind. He was used to wearing things that weren't quite his size.
He put the jacket on and smoothed out the wrinkles, ignoring the stains and the smell. To him, it was perfect.
"Perfect, perfect, perfect," he said, twirling around in the alleyway while making poses that no one was there to see. "It's like it was made just for me!"
As he stepped out of the alleyway, he noticed people staring at him, but he didn't care. He was used to being the odd one out, and he knew that the suit jacket made him look distinguished and refined.
He walked down the street, his head held high, enjoying the feeling of the fabric against his skin. He stopped at a store window and admired his reflection.
And that's when he noticed it. The scarf. The scarf that completed the look. It was sitting in the window display, calling out to him. He knew he had to have it, and he walked into the store, still wearing the suit jacket.
The store clerk looked up as the young man walked in, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight before him.
"Can I help you?" the clerk asked, forcing a smile.
The young man could sense the disbelief and jealousy in the clerk's voice, and he smirked to himself. He knew he looked good, and he enjoyed the attention.
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"I want that scarf in the window," he said, pointing to the display. It was a deep shade of maroon, almost as if it was created to match the color of his hair.
The clerk hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the display and took the scarf down.
As he was handed the scarf the young man felt a change. It was as if he was riding in a vehicle, and it just made a slight turn. He felt the path of time that the Grand Clock carried him on changed.
He turned looking in the direction of the Grand Clock then he disconnected from its flow. Doing so wasn't an easy task but he could do it. A slight pain began to spread from his head as he began to push his own time forward instead of allowing the Grand Clock to carry him forward. The pain would continue till he allowed his flow to be carried by something else, but he had long been taught to deal with such a thing.
He stayed facing the direction of the Grand Clock, acknowledging the invisible force that governed time in the city. He waited, expecting something.
"That'll be $50." The storekeeper said.
The young man pulled out a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and gave him the money.
The storekeeper's expression morphed into one of bewilderment as he straightened out the bills. "These aren't dollars," he stated, thoroughly perplexed.
What he had given the storekeeper were pieces of paper he had colored to make look like dollars. They were probably worth far more because of his artistic skill and he opened his mouth to explain such when abruptly the storekeeper disappeared from in front of him and the scarf in his hands also disappeared.
They were both now back in their place they had been a few moments ago. The scarf in its display and the storekeeper behind his desk.
Time had just clicked back a few moments, its flow going straight once again.
The storekeeper looked at him with wide eyes. “How did you get here?” he stammered.
Not answering him he pointed to the scarf. “I want that scarf.”
The clerk hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the display and took the scarf down.
The moment he handed it over the young man once again felt a shift in the flow of time. “Is it happening again?” he thought to himself.
He held the scarf and severed the flow of time of the scarf from the Grand Clock and allowed it to move forward on his own personal flow of time. He then walked out of the building without paying heed to the man that was yelling at him demanding he return the scarf. He took just a few steps outside, pedestrians walking forward around him, suddenly they all jumped backwards. Their positions teleported backwards as time once again leapt back and straightened itself.
The store clerk who had been following him claiming he was going to go to the police disappeared. But the young man’s cool new scarf remained.
"What was the saying? Twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern? If it happens once more, I suppose I'll have to try and do something about it before I get dragged back into the Grand Clock's flow," he mumbled to himself as he walked down the street.
He caught a glance of himself in a window, and he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him. He knew that he looked good, and that was all that mattered. He twirled the scarf around his neck and adjusted the suit jacket, feeling like a king.