"Did you hear the whispers last night, echoing through the empty hall?"
Last summer, when everything seemed so untouched, we found a box in the attic. Inside were papers, old perfume bottles, and photographs. Faces we didn't recognize stared back, their eyes holding secrets we dared not unravel. The scent of lavender lingered, even without a source.
"Remember when the wind carried voices from nowhere?"
August brought rains that surprised us, drenched the streets, and made the world shine differently. We walked, boots splashing, amidst puddles reflecting half-formed dreams. Conversations unspoken filled the void, like whispers in the dark woods. Their meanings were ours to ponder, though we never tried.