The Boy Who Borrowed Tomorrow

Every child has begged a slow day to hurry up. Milo Finch found a shop that said yes. I wrote The Boy Who Borrowed Tomorrow because I remember being ten and impatient — tapping my foot through math class, aching for a Saturday that never seemed to arrive fast enough. Milo feels that same restlessness. One ordinary Wednesday, a crooked alley he’d never noticed before leads him to Quill’s Curiosities, a shop crammed with clocks that all disagree about the time. Except one. That clock doesn’t tell time — it grants it.

At first, the little brass clock seems like the answer to everything Milo has ever wanted: skip the dentist, skip the test, skip the long, boring afternoon standing between him and the good part. The kind, sad-eyed shopkeeper who hands it to him warns him to count his uses carefully. Milo doesn’t listen. This is a fable about a friendship pushed to its limit, a family Milo loves more than he realizes, and a shopkeeper whose own long-ago choices still haunt his quiet, ticking shop. It asks a question I think every reader has asked at least once: what are we really giving away when we wish today into tomorrow? Milo will have to decide what today is actually worth, before there isn’t enough of it left to matter. Come find out what he chooses.