Winston saw the time, and immediately made a wish.
Because it was eleven in the morning, he knew it was safe. Not like the people that went for the eleven eleven at night. That’s not real eleven eleven, Winston knew. It was twenty-three eleven. But eleven eleven, that was the sweet spot. When your wish would actually come true.
Finishing the wish, Winston opened his eyes again. The clock already said eleven twelve. A tragedy; he hadn’t finished in time, so now the inverse of the wish would come true. He would have to wish it again twice, just to make sure.
Winston took off, knowing the nearest clock was just around the corner. He reached it: eleven thirteen. Damn. Next one.
Reaching the kitchen, Winston saw it: eleven eleven. He quickly re-made his wish, opened his eyes, and was greeted with eleven eleven still. Perfect. One more to go.
He ran all over the house and didn’t find another ready clock. And then he remembered.
Looking down at his wrist, Winston was greeted with a beautiful sight. Eleven ten. He stood and waited, and waited, and waited, and finally it happened. Eleven eleven.
Winston wished, and wished hard. He opened his eyes: still eleven eleven. He had done it. The wish was his.