Echo of Memory

You entered here in a way that not even your brain understood. Maybe it was a stumble in reality, a misplaced thought, or just the sound of something that never existed. Now you are here. The air tastes like forgotten memories, and the hallways repeat conversations you never had. Each step makes a noise, but the sound returns with a delay — sometimes seconds, sometimes days. Sometimes it doesn't return at all. The walls are endless, but you've seen them all. Beige paint, peeling as if time had given up. Blurred photos of people who might have been you. Or still are. The ceiling flickers to the rhythm of your fear, and there is no light beyond your doubt. You think you are alone, but you have heard your own footsteps before you took them. Your mind is your only map, but also the labyrinth. And deep within it all, a whisper repeats your name... God does not know how this place was created. Maybe it was dreamed by something that dreams of you.