Chasing Paradox

The untraceable shop.

The route home was completely blocked, forcing Ronald to take a different route. This bothered him more than he let on. He loved to analyze everything; things that didn’t add up kept nagging at him. His house was less than twenty minutes away.
Every day he walked the same route home from work. But today, the street he’d been walking for 15 years was completely blocked.
He looked around and saw a narrow street between the shops and walked towards it.
He looked down the narrow street. “This isn’t right,” and yet he walked a little further.
There was no Wi-Fi signal, no people, just a door surrounded by a small brick wall, with no sign above it, no doorbell, and yet he stood still and felt an inexplicable urge to go inside.
A light shone through the door’s window. Ronald walked to the door. When he carefully opened it, the door creaked. He cautiously looked inside. When he entered the shop, the space seemed out of place compared to what he saw outside. It was deeper, higher, with no windows, only light but no lamps.
Clocks hung everywhere. He looked around wide-eyed; he’d never seen so many clocks in one place. On a table lay an old black wall clock with crooked hands, no numbers, but markings that resembled symbols. As if it indicated intentions, not time.
The salesperson was silent, reading an old piece of paper made from parchment made of old skin. His eyes were somewhat bulging. Ronald paid for the clock and just as he left the shop, he turned around. He wanted to ask something, but the shop was gone. There was no door either. The lights began to dim. By the time he left the alley, it too had disappeared, along with the road closure.