The crying Clock in the dark Hallway

"I was standing in the dark hallway of an old house I’ve never lived in, listening to this tiny baby crying endlessly somewhere down the hall. The sound was so high-pitched and heartbroken, and I had this overwhelming, heavy ache in my chest because I knew I was supposed to be comforting it, but I couldn't find my shoes or remember which room the crib was in. Every door I opened just led to another empty storage closet filled with cardboard boxes. Suddenly I was sitting on the back step of a quiet city bus at night, holding a tiny white swaddle blanket in my lap. The baby was still crying softly against my chest, but when I pulled back the edge of the blanket to check on her, it was just a small antique clock ticking loudly. I felt this intense, crushing wave of sorrow wash over me, sitting under the flickering overhead lights as the bus drove through the dark, completely helpless because I couldn't figure out how to stop the crying or make things right."