The clock in Emeka’s room had been broken for years, stuck at exactly 3:17. He never bothered to fix it until one night, he woke up suddenly and noticed the clock was ticking. Slowly. Each second felt louder than the last. As the hands moved, a strange feeling filled the room. When the clock finally reached 3:18, a soft whisper echoed through the air. Emeka sat up, heart pounding, but saw nothing. The next morning, the clock was broken again. He tried to dismiss it as a dream, but that night, it happened again. And again. Emeka realized that whatever was tied to that moment was not finished with him.