In the mirror, the wheels turned slowly, grinding time with an eerie inevitability. Here, in this room, shadows stood witness to the unsaid, the unspoken echoes of our consciousness.
She peered closer, not wanting to see what was hidden, yet drawn to its haunting narrative. The mirror fogged with whispers, stories untold, unraveling like smoke.
The witness wheels, ancient and unyielding, reflected a world not of glass but of memory. She traced the edges of a forgotten story, written in the language of longing and silence.
Beneath the surface, a voice called out, familiar yet distant. "You remember," it said, "the way time bends, the way reality melts in the eyes of the beholder."