In the mirror's quiet grasp, a child's whisper floats. "Hello," it says, but no one replies. The glass hums softly, a secret melody only it knows.
Sometimes the echo remembers stories. Tales of little feet chasing big dreams. But in the mirror, those dreams drift like clouds, soft and far away.
"Silence," murmurs the reflection, "is just an empty playground." The swings creak, and the slides shimmer like forgotten laughter.
Enter the Void