It wasn’t the silence that woke her—it was the weight of it.
Heavy. Still.
Like the kind of stillness that only comes when something has just left… or is about to arrive.
The moon poured in through the tall windows, uninvited but sovereign, casting fractured patterns across the floor. Shadows stretched like long-forgotten thoughts, creeping across the room with a purpose they didn’t explain.
Nothing moved.
Not the leaves in the vase.
Not the glass bottle on the table.
Not even time—it seemed suspended, mid-inhale, as though the universe had paused to listen for a sound she couldn’t hear.
And yet, in the hush, she could feel it.
Something watching.
Not from outside the window, but from inside the quiet.
A presence stitched into the folds of the night, humming in frequencies beyond hearing. Not threatening. Not comforting. Just there—too close to be far, too subtle to name.
She wondered if she was the only one who noticed when the world turned like that. When light and shadow danced in perfect conspiracy, and the ordinary tilted just slightly… enough to slip into something else.
She didn’t move. She didn’t speak.
She just watched.
And the night watched back.
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