"In these grand halls of silent reveries," she mused, "what tales could windows whisper when never opened? An investment in dust, perhaps?"
Cleverly forgotten memos danced across her vision, twirling in bureaucratic ballet under corporate chandeliers. "Ah, the poetry of paperwork," he declared, "silent yet screaming in its efficiency."
With irony slicing the night like a blade through fog, schedules crumbled in the dance of digital chaos. "The end or just a pause?" emails sighed in echoing solitude, yet felt as timeless as the ticking void.
Whispered Untruths rustle like phantom leaves, while Corporate Specters loom, their messages clear yet unread.