Annoy May 2026

It wasn't a melody; it was a rhythmic, airy wheeze-puff that seemed to emanate from the next room where his new apprentice, Toby, was ostensibly cleaning the workbench. It was the kind of sound that didn't just reach the ears; it vibrated against the teeth.

Elias lived for silence. As a professional watchmaker, his world was measured in microns and the nearly imperceptible snick-snick of escapement wheels. He was currently in the final hour of restoring a 19th-century Breguet, a piece of mechanical poetry so delicate that a heavy sneeze could ruin a week's work. Then came the whistling. It wasn't a melody; it was a rhythmic,

Toby stopped mid-whistle, his cleaning rag frozen. "Uh, like when my sister hides my phone?" As a professional watchmaker, his world was measured

He had only been searching for five minutes when a small, rhythmic sound started up from the street outside. A car was idling, its bass-heavy music thumping a single, repetitive note that shook the very glass of his storefront. Toby stopped mid-whistle, his cleaning rag frozen