Frozen Time

The clock on the town hall tower stopped precisely at 3:17 a.m. An unusual silence enveloped the entire town. Not the typical quiet of the night, but a profound stillness that settles between two heartbeats, leaving one uncertain whether something has just ended or is about to begin. Natalia awoke with a sense that something was amiss. Her grandfather's flat was enveloped in an uncanny calm—too perfect. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at her phone. No signal. No Wi-Fi. No... time? The phone displayed only: **– –:––**. She descended the stairs. Her grandfather sat in the kitchen, sipping tea. But he wasn't moving. The tea hovered slightly above his cup, as if someone had frozen it mid-pour. He himself resembled a statue. Natalia let out a short, stifled sound. She rushed to her grandfather—his eyes were open. As if he were gazing at something that still persisted in a world that had come to a halt. She stepped outside. People were frozen in various poses. A woman with a pram, a dog mid-leap, a cyclist suspended mid-turn. Even the wind—leaves hovered motionlessly above the pavement. Only she could move. Then—something shifted in the shadow behind her. A swift silhouette. Someone else was walking in this frozen world. She wasn't alone. *** She began leaving traces—chalk marks on walls, pins on doors, lines from books on benches. She tried to reach out to others. To that *someone*. After three days (or perhaps just a minute?), she heard footsteps in the library. Someone had knocked over a book. On its spine was a single word: **"Chapter"**. And beneath it... numbers.