In the quietest corners, stories begin to fade. There was a time when the air felt thicker here, laden with the weight of untold words. Today, only echoes remain. Shadows cast memories on the walls, though the exact shape eludes grasp.
He turned around once more, the old book clasped in hands that trembled gently. Many had touched these pages before, yet none lingered past the whispers of the wind. Boundaries, she had said, are often marked by those stories we dare not complete.