"Beyond the mist, I buried the notion of peace..." - the tailor whispered before vanishing.
"When you look forward, do shadows chase you?" the forlorn man asked the moon.
"Anything can unravel; watch how the weave speaks its sorrow," murmured the sly weaver within the man's soul.
Conversations between the void balconies, where words are shadows cast by reality.
"Awake, but not here," a dreary voice chuckled over steaming teacups.
"Do questions burn brighter than answers?" said the darkened figure perched on the horizon.
Stories Without EndSlice open the shadows, find the unspoken tally...