A clock without hands. Tick-tock, yet never forward.
Once, the color red faded into whispers of grey.
Footsteps echoed in halls now barren, longing for... what?
An open book, pages blank, stories unwritten yet pressing to escape.
Rain on a window, each drop a secret, never shared, forgotten in time.
Invisible Echoes Reverberate The Soliloquy of Shadows