“But what if the stars spoke in whispers too loud for silence?”

She asked a question above the horizon, below the dawn, where waking dreams forget their shadows.

“Gravity's the gentle thief of moments,”

He replied, balancing on the edge of a thought, as time folded like origami around the corners of yesterday's echo.

“Do the clocks tick in reverse here?” she pondered, unperturbed by the gravity of her own levity, floating within a sphere of paradox.