The Borrowed Minute

At noon each day, Union Station borrowed one minute from its clocks. Passengers froze between steps, pigeons hung above the rafters, and the platform crew hurried through the stillness to clear spills and retrieve dropped bags. Only licensed workers could move. On Inez's first shift, her supervisor handed her a red armband and one rule: never touch a passenger. The minute began. Near Track Six, a little boy turned his head and looked straight at her. "You're late," he said. Then he slipped free of his frozen mother's hand and ran toward an arriving train.