You abandoned your obligations in emptiness.
In that hollow quiet, you hear a familiar voice you have heard countless times before.
Despite that, you still couldn't figure out who it belonged to.
You step into the corridor, and the walls stretch just slightly beyond the edges of your vision or maybe you've been walking in circles.
The air smells faintly metallic, like something long dead yet no source presents itself.
Someone is walking beside you.
Not a shadow, not a shape—but something you do not acknowledge.
A girl. Her gray hair flickers in the dim light, sometimes silver, sometimes nothing at all. You wonder—does she change, or is it the nothingness playing tricks on your eyes?
A voice echoes in your mind: Do you remember who you are?
You do not answer. Perhaps you cannot. Perhaps, you do not remember the answer, or even the question. Your mind insists there must be a reason, some logic why memory slips away.
You look at the girl walking beside you.
She is both there and not there, a constant question that lingers in your head:
"Who are you, if not what others see? "
You want to ask her something, anything, but the sound dies before leaving your mouth. Instead, you move forward.
Maybe she is the mirror, and you are the reflection.
Or maybe the reverse.
Either way, the corridor stretches on, endless, and you cannot tell where you end—or where she begins.
You keep walking, though "forward" has lost meaning. You do not even know where forward is and where backward is.
Light bends strangely at the edges of your vision, revealing corners you never saw.
Maybe you are the part of her, maybe she is the part of you. Or perhaps, there is no 'you' at all.
Shapes begin to press against the walls. Blurry, fused silhouettes, like the remnants of lives that tried to pass through here before you. Some merge into one another, others collapse, leaving only echoes. Their murmurs form a single question that reverberates in your skull:
What makes you separate from them?