The mechanism was unlike anything I’d seen before. It was old, yet oddly well-preserved, untouched by the decay that claimed much of the attic.
As we stood there, the weight of its secrets pressed upon us.
I found myself wondering who had built it and why. More importantly, what did it mean for us now?
My life in the city was a routine of work and solitude, but this discovery—this puzzle—seemed to demand attention, refusing to let me return to my normalcy.
As the rain continued its soft drumming against the window, we made the decision to keep the discovery to ourselves.
But silence, I’ve learned, has a way of growing heavy, filling the spaces between what we know and what we wish we didn’t.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
