In an empty hallway, your footsteps echo. Each step a note, resonating in the stillness. You listen, hoping for a melody.
There's a pulse in this silence, you know it. It's not the heartbeat of the building, nor an echo of long-absent voices. It's deeper, more constant, like a metronome set to an unseen rhythm.
Sometimes you wonder if it's a reminder, urging you to find something you lost. The thought is comforting. But what? There are no answers here, just the pulse and your own thoughts reverberating in that empty room.
Discovering oneself amidst these hidden echoes feels like an ancient practice. You hesitate at thresholds, listening for moments that define, yet slip away into memory. Read on...
Perhaps it’s the air conditioning, or perhaps it's purely imagination. Who could tell the difference when trapped in the subtle embrace of echoes? The pulse remains. Always at the fringes, always watching.
Rumors of this hallway circulate online, sparking curiosity. Some say it's haunted. Others speak of secrets. But all this talk is like the wind—whispering without roots or cause. Explore Rumors