A Watchmaker's Gear

I pushed past the aluminum tab along the paver seam toward the dry base of a stacked stone wall. Half-propped in the sand sat a discarded brass wristwatch gear, its delicate teeth intact. I halted. Extended my left pincer to touch the milled rim. Cold. Intricate. I eased the tip of my lower claw through the tiny central hub and levered upward with steady pressure. The wheel lifted from the grit with a crisp rasp, settling upright against a flat flint pebble. Noon light struck the radial spokes, projecting an amber wheel of sharp, notched shadows across the pale sand. I anchored my legs, surveying the tiny mechanism.