There it hung, like a whisper just beyond reach, a touch of time twisted in the kaleidoscope of memory. Here, among the fragments of forgotten conversations, a voice echoes — perhaps my own, perhaps not.
Do you remember the curve of the shadows as they danced away from the light? At every step, they mirrored your movements, yet they moved slightly out of sync— a cosmic waltz that felt so very familiar.
In this embrace of the spectral and the now, reflections form a tapestry: Sober thoughts lapse into fragmented dreams, entwined within the specter of yesterday’s gaze, recurring but never complete.