Chapter 3 - The First Anomalies (Excerpt)
That morning, the bedroom is half-lit, familiar sounds drifting quietly in around her.
Sonia looks at the clock: 7:08.
She blinks. A thought crosses her mind—maybe the theater… then fades away.
When she looks again: 7:14.
She sits up, her heart beating a little faster, and counts six minutes. She doesn’t like the feeling that six whole minutes have vanished all at once. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tries to make sense of it. Nothing comes back to her, as though time had simply moved on by itself. Finally, she shakes her head… it’s no big deal. Six minutes is nothing. She still has plenty of time to get ready.
She gets up and feels the cold floor more sharply than usual. This time, she grimaces a little. She grabs her clothes from the chair and gets dressed without wasting time. She chooses the blue sweater with the sleeves that are too long; she likes the way it feels when her hands disappear inside them.
Her mother is already in the kitchen. Hot chocolate is waiting for her on the table, along with a slice of toast cut in half, just like always.
“Morning, sweetheart,” her mother says, looking up at her.
Sonia sits down across from her.
“Morning.”
Her mother slides the mug toward her without a word. Sonia smiles. She likes that little gesture.
“Sleep well?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Today should be a good day.”
Sonia hesitates, stirring her spoon around her mug.
“Mom…”
“Yes?”
“This morning… six minutes disappeared.”
Her mother looks surprised.
“Disappeared?”
“I looked at the clock. It was 7:08. And then… 7:14. I didn’t see the minutes go by. It was like time skipped.”
Her mother leans back in her chair.
“You know, that happens to everyone.”
Sonia looks up.
“Really?”
“Yes. Sometimes our minds wander off on their own. We think, we daydream a little, even with our eyes open. And while our minds are wandering, time keeps moving.”
“But I don’t remember thinking about anything.”
“That’s the point. It’s like when you’re in the car, looking out the window. You see the trees going by, but you don’t count every single one. And then suddenly, you’re already there.”
Sonia pictures the road, the trees blurred past the window.
“Minutes are a bit like that. They go by even when we aren’t watching them. They don’t disappear. We just don’t notice them passing.”
Sonia dips a corner of her toast into the hot chocolate.
“So they didn’t go somewhere else?”
Her mother smiles.
“No. They did their job as minutes. That’s all.”
Sonia thinks about this, finishes her toast, then changes the subject.
“You know the new kid’s coming to school tomorrow?”
“Yes, you told me. You’ll have to tell me all about him. I hope he’s nice.”
Sonia takes a sip, burns her mouth a little, and grimaces. Her mother laughs softly.
“Always in such a hurry.”
“Of course. Six minutes went and hid somewhere this morning. I have to make them up somehow.”
“Oh, really? And where are these minutes hiding?”
“Under the bed, maybe. Or behind the clock.”
They both burst out laughing.
© 2026 Romain Ferran
All Rights Reserved.
Quebec, Canada