The air shivers, though nothing moves. A presence lingers, unseen yet undeniable, pressing against the edges of perception. It is neither here nor gone, neither past nor present. Shapes flicker in the periphery, dissolving the moment they are noticed, like echoes of something that never quite existed.
The silence isn’t empty. It watches. It waits. It breathes. The walls seem closer than before, the shadows stretched just a little too long. There is a weight in the air, something pressing down, whispering without sound, urging without words.
Something is here. Not in sight, not in form, but in the way the space itself seems to pull, to shift, to listen. It lingers without shape, without presence, yet you feel it. You always feel it.
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