In December of 2020

  the city was drowning in a sea of twinkling lights, as if it had never known stillness. Its streets pulsed beneath the weight of unceasing motion, filled with hurried footsteps chasing one another as though in a race against time. The air that wrapped the city—like clouds wrapping the sky—was ced with the scent of cold and a longing for lost hope. Every corner, every alley throbbed with life—yet not life as one might know it. It was a life in perpetual wakefulness, never sleeping, never resting. The city itself seemed like a living being—its heart beating with light, and its eyes watching through the gaze of passersby and shadows.

  The narrow crisis breathed heavily, as if burdened with secrets it refused to reveal. The only audible sound was the whispering wind, sweeping between the tall walls and vanishing into every corner, melting into the darkness. In those moments, the windows of ancient buildings watched in silence, like old eyes that had witnessed passing eras—but never truly faded. Each window, each wooden frame stood witness to a long history of memories—trapped within the walls, scattering with every breath of air, as if carrying secrets that mingled with light and shadow.

  But that year was different. The city seemed to flee from silence, as though it feared its approach. The streets resisted surrendering to sleep, and something hidden lurked in the shadows—something looming on the horizon that the human mind could not fathom. There was something intangible in the air, yet it filled the space entirely. A strange sense of caution saturated the atmosphere, and every corner of the city seemed destined for something unfamiliar. The city, with all its lights and rubble, appeared to fear itself—as though trying to escape a fate no one could yet perceive. Each night felt like the beginning of a new tale… a story that may never find its end.

  Everything was ced with mystery. It was as if the city avoided sleep because within its slumber y questions that had no answers. Every window, every door, every hidden nook bore witness to a moment of reflection—a moment of waiting. And as time passed, the city remained in a state of suspense, as though afraid to open its eyes to a world it could no longer recognize.

  Sounds emerging from dark corners were unintelligible, like distant echoes from another realm—coming from where human understanding ends. In that moment, time seemed to freeze. Everything in the city stood still, as if its very heart had shuddered suddenly and asked, in the depths of night: “Do you dare to breathe again?”Was it simply loneliness… or something far more sinister, hidden within the creeping shadows?

  The wind shed against the street corners as though carrying ancient whispers—whispers from a distant pce, echoing with unbearable emotions. The sky, heavy with clouds, concealed something behind its gray veil, as if shielding a deep secret not yet meant to be revealed. At that moment, the city was a living creature, waiting for something to descend upon it—something lurking in the darkness, far from sight.

  Inside a small, somber café, a man with weary, life-worn eyes sat watching the smoke of his cigarette rise slowly toward the sky—like tongues of fme fighting to stay alive. He stared at it with questioning eyes, as though seeking answers to the strangeness unfolding around him. Opposite him sat his friend, quietly observing the words of patrons entering and exiting through the old window, as if each one carried a secret never to be spoken.

  The man with the tired eyes spoke in a hushed voice, trying to stifle the whispers spilling from his lips as he lifted his gaze to the gray sky: "Have you heard… of those spirits?""The ones that slip between us, walk beside us in silence, setting fire to our hearts without ever being seen. They say they dwell in dark corners, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike—to devour everything in their path. But… do you believe that?"

  His friend replied with a smile tinged with mockery, his eyes glinting with sarcasm: "Spirits? Are we really starting to believe old grandmother tales now? Maybe they’re just rumors—spread by souls that no longer know where to tread. Do we really need more fear in this world already drowning in darkness?"

  But the man with the tired eyes wasn’t convinced. There was something in his gaze that defied expnation—a deep, unshakable anxiety no words could express. He raised his head slowly and said in a hoarse voice, almost whispering more to himself than to his friend:

  "But what I saw in that alley this morning… it wasn’t just a rumor. There’s something… something unnatural happening here. Every time I close my eyes, I feel it circling me. And when I shut my lids, trying to return to sleep… those whispers… those voices I can’t understand… they come to me."

  He paused for a moment, then added in a low voice, as if revealing a grave secret: "And what if those spirits... truly exist? What will we do when they come close to us?"

  Their conversation scattered amidst the city’s cmor like droplets falling into a stormy sea—one without depth or end. Yet the city itself seemed to respond in an unseen way, as though it breathed in every word spoken. In the far distance, the lights began to flicker—glowing, then fading—as if trying to escape from something no one could name. Fear became something tangible in the air—something that stirred unease in the soul, without expnation.

  Amidst the fog of rumors and phantoms drifting between the shadows of buildings, the city itself began to feel dread at the thought of slumber. It felt as though it were fleeing that moment of surrender, as if a deep secret y hidden within its very body—a secret it had long tried to conceal, but which now drew ever closer.

  And every corner, every nook, every window in the city bore silent witness to a moment that would mark the beginning of something from which there could be no return. As though the city were destined to meet an unknown truth— a secret waiting for the perfect moment to emerge.