the small clock on the mantel has stopped — not last week, not this morning. it stopped at a specific minute: ten past four, twenty-three past nine, nineteen of seven. one of those times, exact. you find it by accident.
this means a fortune of a single, specific kind: a decision that has been hovering for some weeks is, as of the moment the hand froze, already made. you have not noticed your having made it. that is fine. the clock has agreed to notice on your behalf.
do not wind the clock today. let it keep the time it has chosen for one more day. tomorrow, wind it. say aloud the decision you have apparently already made. the room will not contradict you.
— field note: a clock stopped at noon or midnight is a different omen and not in this almanac; consult the hourglass.