Echoes Within an Almost Calm

The empty room speaks in hushed tones. Words hang suspended in the dim glow of forgotten stories,

reverberating like whispers off barren walls. Sunlight filters through dust, a slow infection,

gilding the moment with assurance of fleeting connection.

Light bends in mysterious ways here, echoing what once was:

An unresolved interview long gone stale, asking unanswered questions while windows listen.

• A single chair, worn at the edges, surveyed the space quietly.
• Books with pages unturned, each chapter holding its breath.
• Scribbled notes folded among shadows, finding meaning in their omission.

Life weaves its ordinary magic in mundane rituals.

Handle with care, the clocks tick backward beyond perception.