Echoes of the Unsaid: Episode X

Some nights, the city feels like a museum of things we almost said.

Ethan stood there, the rain turning the neon signs into blurred memories. I thought I

saw you here last week. Maybe you did. I find myself coming back to

this spot. There is a weight in the silence that words can no longer

carry. Goodnight, Ethan. Take care, Clara.

And so, the story remains unwritten, floating in the humid air.