The platform was almost deserted, save for the flickering overhead lights and the distant rumble of a train. Clara rubbed at her temples, trying to clear the fog in her mind. That was when she heard it—a cry. Thin, fragile, desperate.
Her eyes scanned the platform, landing on a stroller abandoned against the far bench. The cry rose again. Her heart skipped.
She approached the stroller, each step slower than the last, her instincts screaming at her to stop.