"Did you hear the echo of the ancient clock last night?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice, like open doors in a forgotten hallway.
Some conversations linger like sweet perfume in the air, long after the person has left the room. They twirl in circles, return to the tap of timid toes. You ponder, what stories these whispers could weave if only they remembered their beginnings?
"Probably just the wind," he replied, eyes cast to the half-open window, where shadows and whispers danced in secret.
"Encrypt the moment," they said, suggestion resting casually on the edge of their breath, as if coding the very essence of time into a delicate tapestry. Encrypt it, and perhaps you'd find yourself in a conversation with the ages, one that would last long after the final seed of silence dropped into the night."