"Do you remember," she whispered, barely above a breath, "the bridges made of whispers?"
"You mean the ones that lead nowhere, or maybe to a place where the colors hum?" he replied, eyes closed.
"Yes, exactly! And if you listen closely, there's a wisdom in the silence echoing just behind the stars," she said, dreaming herself into the twilight.
"Ever tried counting the shadows in a fog?" a voice emerged from the mist.
"I think they follow me," another voice answered, with the confidence of one who'd questioned sanity before.
"But what if, just what if, some of them are counting you back?" This was said with a grin that's half hidden by drizzling enchantments.
"Lost your compass?" someone asked from beneath the tilted moonlight.
"Nah, just recalibrating my sense of what should be, you know?" came the response, lighthearted and buoyant.
"Guess direction's overrated then," another muse commented, chasing echoes down crooked lanes.