The Other Side Whispers
Within the confines of the mirrored sphere, gravity tantalizes the laws of nature:
"If the ground was above us, would we fall upward?"
"Only if we allow the chasm beneath to fill our pockets with stars."
Phyllis stared into her reflection, albeit sideways, where the universe looped over a silver edge. In that space, her counterpart was a stranger dancing with familiar shadows.
Beyond the mirage and through the haze of question, an ethereal voice broke free:
"Do mirrors dream of us when we aren't looking?"
Phyllis pondered that, the question curving like a crescent moon over the evening sky. She reached out, fingers brushing the solid facade of glass now turned liquid.
Chasms below whispered stories of the absurd, scripts written in the ink of forgotten dreams:
Their embrace would be gentle, as if wrapping time itself in a quilt of memories yet to be made.
Journey deeper into the reflection: fractured visions
Or follow the whispers' echoes: echoes into