“The hall was empty, yet full of potential. So much potential.”
In these vast corridors, the whispers of bureaucratic dreams take form. Empty chairs await the burden of unseen decisions, while coffee mugs warm the air with absence rather than aroma.
The walls, once brimming with ambition, now reflect our muted hopes. Every step resonates, but only for the sake of echoing—an auditory illusion of purpose.
“We are all echoes, darling. Echoes in an echo chamber, lost in the echo.”
What are we waiting for, if not for something to wait for us? Perhaps a revolution in the coffee machine, or a new policy on time management?
Shadows Whispering | Phantom Clerks