In the dim light of the café, where whispers intertwine like lovers' fingers in the dark, he gazed across the table.
Her eyes spoke volumes, a silent serenade wrapped in rimless glasses and twilight hues.
He construed every blink, every fleeting smile, a reel of faded celluloid playing whispers of eternity.
Suddenly, the song of the gramophone sputtered, vanishing into echoes of past notes unsung.
Outside, shadows lengthened, devouring whispers left unguarded, promises lost in the night's embrace.
But in this moment, beneath flickering lamplight, reality faded, leaving only the memory of her laugh—a ghostly encore.