Our mutual silence breaks like morning dew, shattering into a thousand undisclosed dreams.

The title credits linger, a ghostly ballet across the frame, whispering secrets in a tongue we both understand.

She whispers impossible truths, soundlessly, as the orchestra of her eyes plays a nocturne of unshed tears.

His hat, a silent sentinel, witnesses the unraveling of destinies under the relentless gaze of intermission.

In the end scene, they depart, not with words, but with the unspoken promise pinned between frames.

The projector hums, a digital heartbeat in a mechanized soul, encoding feelings into sequences of light.