In a dusty corner of the world, where echoes of yesterday linger, someone once walked with purpose. Shadows stretch long as if trying to catch up with those who hastily left. The clock ticks. But does it? Not here. Not now.
"Remember the basement?" she asked, voice tinged with an ache. "It had that smell, you know, like old books and dust."
No one's sure what basement she meant. Or maybe everyone is but doesn't want to say.
Systems still whirr in forgotten places—like a factory that produces nothing but noise and rust. There's a report somewhere, but who reads it? Not her any longer. The dossier remains untouched, buried in bureaucracy's graveyard.
Time reshapes everything—sculpts the memories into something unrecognizable. We were there once, weren't we?