He spent at least an hour looking for the small screwdriver he knew he had - and was certain he'd left in the top drawer of his desk. He needed to mend his watch - a gift from his sister - which had worked perfectly well when it sat on the bookshelf next to his bed, but had decided to stop working the moment he put it on his wrist. He knew his sister would notice if he wasn't wearing it. It would be the first thing she looked for when he walked into the restaurant. He had found a spare battery - he was sure that was the problem - but now he was stuck trying to undo the back of the watch with the point of a kitchen knife.
"What on earth are you doing?" Martha asked, putting her coffee mug in the sink, before peering over his shoulder.
"I'm trying to get the back off this bloody watch," he spat. "Have you seen the tiny screwdriver?" Martha opened a kitchen drawer, reached in and pulled out the tiny tool.
"This one?"
"How do you do that?" he asked.
...
