On the quiet edge of everyday moments, the phantom footsteps trace familiar paths. They tread over the ghost echoes of conversations never spoken, decisions never made.
In the corridors of the mind, where thoughts flicker like old film reels, memories twist and turn without a guiding hand. Each silent turn reveals shadows of what could have been, cloaked in the mundane haze of routine.
We wander past the old café where laughter lingers like perfume in the air. "Did you see him turn?" echoes faintly, a question unasked yet perfectly understood. It vanishes, absorbed by the noise of distant traffic.
The world spins as it always does, indifferent to the quiet revolutions within our hearts. Yet here, in these moments, we find clarity amidst the chaos, a sanctuary of thought.
"A silent turn, and all is changed."