In a long-forgotten storeroom, sealed away by time, the floor groaned under each step, its boards protesting in low, splintered whispers.
The moment I pushed the door open, a breath of stale air rushed out to meet me, thick with dust, forcing a cough from my chest.
Everything inside lay buried beneath a heavy shroud of neglect — objects abandoned, their forms softened and obscured by the slow settling of years.
The darkness was complete, swallowing edges and shapes alike.
I reached for a small lamp nearby and coaxed it to life. A faint glow flickered into being, and in its fragile light, the dust awoke — countless drifting motes suspended in the air, turning and glimmering like quiet constellations.