In the quiet hallways of departure, echoes of dreams linger. They curve along the edges of reality, tracing unvoiced tales in the air. Stepping through shadows wrapped in twilight, one sees the shapes of stories unwritten, haunting the margins of thought.
Listen, softly, to the murmurs of forgotten laughter, or the sighs of a tethered past, where ghosts of conversation ricochet off empty walls, forming a symphony of absence. There's a door ajar off to the left, beyond the halo of moonlight, inviting exploration into realms less spoken.