In the soft glow of a streetlamp, one silhouette whispered to another, "Do the stars always murmur this quiet?"
"Only when the moon breathes deeply," came the reply, echoed by the patter of unseen rain.
A strange pause settled like dust in the air before the voices curled away into shadows.
"But why does the road beneath me feel so fluid today?"
The other voice chuckled, a sound like water trickling against glass, and said, "The rivers haven't slept for ages."
Reflecting deeply, one asked, "Have you ever spoken with your reflection before it touches the water?"
Their laughter mingled into the night, the answer floating just beyond the rippling pavement.
"Sometimes," began a new voice, "I catch glimpses of other dreams sailing on dusk's golden waves."
Wistfully, an unseen figure declared, "The echoes of the city play the symphony I've yet to learn."
And as if responding to invisible music, raindrops begin to dance, swirling into invisible currents that wrap around whispered secrets.