ephemeral echoes whisper secrets previously unknown. A melancholic symphony in minor key— she knew the fissures held the frail beauty of time-dusted dreams.

As the light fractured, a thousand forgotten whispers churned her mind. Placid ripples said things of which she dared not speak.

Do you see colour where others see shadow? Or perhaps, it's the scent of something elusive, yet familiar. A sliver of moon, perhaps a reflection on cold glass. Go deeper if you dare.