The old man put the key in the door and applied gentle pressure. “Needs oil,” he said. He yanked the handle and the door came open with a screech. He walked in on unsteady legs and grabbed a broom.
Out he came like a bird from a cuckoo clock. He shuffled down the sidewalk until he had all the dust brushed into the street. After a jaunty spin which faced him back the way he had come, he tottered back into the shop and shut the door.
The neighbors across the street applauded. “He’s like clockwork,” one said. “Yes, I set my watch by him,” another said.
Everyone went about their business.