As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, the world outside was painted in hues of amber and steel—as if the sky had whispered secrets too precious to be lost in twilight.
Through the window, a soft breeze stirred the curtains, carrying the faintest echo of laughter from those hazy days gone by. Life paused between breaths, and for an instant, the rushing present became transparent, revealing a fleeting glimpse of what used to be.
She stood there, half-lit by the dimming glow, her reflection merging with the soft glass of the pane. In that moment, she was both there and not there—not quite a ghost, more an echo of what had been promised but perhaps never fulfilled.
In the streets, children played their games—innocent skirmishes in a land of make-believe, where dragons lived in shadowy corners and quests were undertaken without the burden of knowing their futility.
Listen: Refraction Melody
And the clocks, relentless tickers of moments passing, a quiet reminder that all things slip through fingers like sand through an hourglass. We never really see the future we’re always running toward.
As she turned away, the glass whispered again—a muffled soft sigh that carried the weight of countless things left unsaid.