They say echoes find homes in flickering panes. What dances behind you, unseen?

Whirlwind requests and infinite grins, mirrors promise clear sights but show otherworldly paths.

Don't stare too long; splendid secrets breathe a tad too audibly, fogged with a curious shimmer.

The past speaks fervently; does not tire. Reach for that voicemail; meet it at half gulps.