After I handed over the watch for inspection and the echoes faded, it hit me–the insistent, off-beat constancy of hundreds of timepieces ticking. They were everywhere–on the walls, in cases, and on the counter.

The note read: “I didn’t take down the Twin Towers. I don’t have a criminal record, neither does my son, daughter, grandchildren, sister, and my parents are innocent. I don’t sell nor do drugs. Neither am I a terrorist. I don’t have any record in general. I am not included in a mafia.”

There were never more than a couple of us at a time in Mrs. Pasada’s classroom. We never talked to each other and hardly made eye contact even though we were keeping the same secret—none of us could really read.