In a flicker of a time machine's coil, she appeared. Ethereal and striking, with eyes like autumn leaves seductive under lamplight. The cinema chatter turned into whispered dreams, as she crossed paths with an unseen figure, silhouetted against sepia-glow.
Canvases of words—silent scripts now lost—etched their yearning between drapes trembling in the breeze. Each stanza breathes, a pulse in the hallowed vacancy of washed dreams. Characters held seemingly mundane gestures, yet their touch whispered promises, ephemeral.