In the quiet corner of a forgotten boudoir, she stood— a silhouette against the dream-touched glow. Her gaze fell upon the mirror's surface, searching for echoes, whispers of what once was. "I see you," she murmured, tracing the outline of a forgotten smile, its warmth still lingering like a dying ember.
Chains of memory clinked softly, a music only she could hear, weaving through the tendrils of mist that clung to the glass. "Here," came the sigh, as if the mirror breathed alongside her, "within these reflections lie the secrets of our time."