I remember the taste of rain on dusty rooftops when the city turns orange under fading daylight, were we not all explorers then? Searching for hidden treasures beneath the cracked surface.

The clock struck thirteen, and suddenly the world was upside down. Alice whispered secrets to invisible friends while time ran away, leaving only shadows behind.

On the fifth Tuesday of the third month, they gathered. It was never discussed, this tradition buried deep like roots of an ancient tree. The scent of lavender filled the air, and conversations danced in spirals up to the ceiling.

She held the photograph, edges tattered, of an unknown man in a hat who smiled at her from a different time, a different place. Who was he, and why do his eyes seem to know her better than she knows herself?

Turn back through the corridor of forgotten doors, or continue forward into the maze of untold stories.