She stood at the edge of the old pier, listening to the whispers of the waves. They spoke of stories untold, of laughter that once danced upon the horizon, now lost to the sands of time.
A voice once familiar calls my name, yet echoes through a foggy past. I search for you in the shadows, but find only silhouettes of what used to be.
In the attic, I discovered a box of forgotten photographs. Faces stared back at me, recognizable yet elusive, as if caught in a dream that never truly woke.
Time folds upon itself, an origami of moments, each crease a reminder of paths not taken. The echoes linger, haunting yet comforting, like a gentle refrain in the corners of my mind.