Somewhere in the depths of a forgotten drawer, sits an untouched button. Its allure is subtle, wrapped in whispers of rust, embedding secrets in every groove.
Pressing it becomes a ritual. What happens next? The light changes, perhaps, or does it flicker? Like a candle's dance, erratic and mesmerizing. Could it be a portal? Or just a release of old dust?
The button pulses softly, a heartbeat lost in machinery. Do you hear it? It echoes...
... like the whispers of bugs beneath the surface of understanding.
Visit the corridors of the mind: