A hiccough....

In the space of a hiccough, time skips. In that unruly interuption to breathing, you are so inwardly focused that the world is missed. You don't see anything, you don't hear much. Just a sharp inhalation that results in a squeak.
You force yourself back to the ants. One hundred and ninety-three, one hundred and ninety-four. You know that you are trying to live within the span of a hiccough, in a prolonged time skip that will protect you from what is happening on the other side of the wall.