The lady in the mirror whispered secrets only the shadows could understand. A reflection poured from glass onto marble, but what was liquid dripped skyward, defying the very notion of ground and ceiling.
"Do you hear the bells echoing in the absence of sound?" she asked, her voice a hollow chime reverberating through the tapestry of night. "They toll for the forgotten, and the ethereal visage of eternity."
I nodded, though her eyes were pools of midnight that made solidity seem an afterthought. "When do these dreams cease to unravel?" I questioned the unmoved envelope of dark.
And as the candles dimmed without flame, the echo of her laughter became a dance of fireflies in a sunken garden.