At noon, the town clock rings thirteen times. People pause mid-bite, mid-email. The extra chime stretches the day by five minutes. Birds adjust their flight paths; buses linger at stops. Those five minutes are interest from forgotten afternoons. Some use them to breathe. Others call old friends. The clock returns to twelve chimes the next day, but people keep looking for the secret thirteenth, wondering what extra time still hides between ticks.
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