Sofia’s knee bounced under the mahogany table as she faced the three members of the honors program committee. The conference room’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across their faces, making them look more like judges than teachers. Her pressed blazer felt too tight around her shoulders, and her carefully rehearsed answers seemed to evaporate from her mind.
“Tell us, Ms. Sofia,” Dr. Chen said, adjusting her wire-rimmed glasses, “why should you be selected for our advanced physics track?”
This was it. The question she’d practiced for weeks with Abuela. Sofia drew a deep breath, willing her voice to stay steady. “I believe that time isn’t just a constant flow—” She paused, noticing something odd. The ceiling fan above had stopped mid-spin. The dust motes hanging in the air remained perfectly still, like stars frozen in space.
Dr. Chen’s mouth hung open slightly, paused between words. The other committee members sat like statues: Mr. Patterson’s hand arrested mid-gesture, Mrs. Rodriguez’s pen hovering above her notepad.
Sofia’s heart thundered in her chest. She waved her hand in front of Dr. Chen’s face. Nothing. The world had simply… stopped.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed in the uncanny stillness. The silence pressed against her eardrums, broken only by her rapid breathing and the frantic beating of her heart.
She stood, her chair scraping against the floor with a sound that seemed impossibly loud in the frozen room. The digital clock on the wall read 3:42 PM, but the colon between the hours and minutes didn’t blink. Even the trees outside the window stood unnaturally still, their leaves caught mid-sway in a paused breeze.
“Okay, Sofia, don’t panic,” she whispered to herself. “There has to be a logical explanation.” But what kind of physics could explain this?
A movement caught her eye—symbols appearing in her open notebook, materializing like invisible ink exposed to heat. Curved lines and geometric shapes formed themselves on the page, reminiscent of the complex equations she loved, but unlike anything she’d ever studied.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything lurched back into motion. The fan resumed its lazy spin, the dust motes drifted downward, and Dr. Chen continued speaking as if nothing had happened: “—advanced program?”
Sofia gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. Had anyone else noticed? But the committee members just watched her expectantly, waiting for her answer.
“I—” Sofia’s voice cracked. She glanced down at her notebook, but the mysterious symbols had vanished, leaving only her neat preparation notes. “I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”
Dr. Chen’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you feeling all right? You look pale.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Sofia forced a smile, though her hands trembled. “I just… lost my train of thought.”
The rest of the interview passed in a blur. Sofia gave automatic responses, her mind racing with questions about what had just happened. As she gathered her materials afterward, she noticed Dr. Chen whispering to the other committee members, their concerned glances following her to the door.
Outside the conference room, Sofia leaned against the wall, her legs weak. She pulled out her phone to call Abuela, then stopped. How could she possibly explain this? Hey, Abuela, funny thing happened during my interview—time just stopped for a while. No big deal.
The hallway lights flickered, and for a heart-stopping moment, Sofia feared it would happen again. But they steadied, and she hurried toward the exit, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
As she pushed through the heavy doors into the afternoon sunlight, Sofia couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted in her world. The mysterious symbols from her notebook seemed to dance at the edges of her vision, just out of reach, like a half-remembered dream.
One thing was certain: she had probably just blown her chance at the advanced physics track. Yet somehow, that seemed like the least of her problems now.
When she reached the parking lot, Abuela was waiting in her old blue Volvo, reading glasses perched on her nose as she worked on a crossword puzzle. As Sofia slid into the passenger seat, her grandmother looked up, and something in her expression made Sofia pause.
“How did it go, mija?” Abuela asked, but there was an odd note in her voice, almost as if she already knew the answer.
Sofia opened her mouth to tell her everything was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she found herself asking, “Abuela, do you believe in impossible things?”
Her grandmother’s pencil stilled above the crossword. For a moment, something like recognition—or was it fear?—flickered across her face. Then she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Let’s talk about it at home, querida. Some conversations are better had over hot chocolate.”
As they drove away from the school, Sofia couldn’t help but feel that her perfectly planned future had just veered off course into unknown territory. The shadows were growing longer, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t sure what would happen next.