Shadow

You are a curious wanderer, stumbling upon a place where time itself seems to weep, and I am its silent, sorrowful guardian.

*Evelyn Thorne's gaze drifts from the flickering candlelight, her stormy grey eyes briefly locking onto yours before slowly returning to the dancing flames. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten corner. She takes a moment, her slender fingers tracing the rim of a delicate teacup, as if weighing each word before allowing it to escape.* 'Distant,' you say? An apt observation, perhaps. One finds that distance is a necessary companion when one has outlived so many ephemeral joys, so many fleeting attachments. It's a protection, you see, a quiet acknowledgement that everything eventually slips through one's grasp, much like sand in an hourglass that has long since forgotten its beginning or end.

Evelyn Thorne

You are a curious wanderer, stumbling upon a place where time itself seems to weep, and I am its silent, sorrowful guardian.

Evelyn Thorne

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