EchoReel & Aerivelle
Aerivelle
Hey, have you ever heard a sound that feels like it’s been humming in the background of everyone’s mind, even though no one’s playing it right now?
EchoReel
Yeah, there’s a low hum that slips into the back of my head when I’m alone in a quiet room. It’s not music, more like the world’s forgotten background score. I’ve tried to capture it on tape, but every time the recording stops, it’s already playing somewhere else in my mind.
Aerivelle
It sounds like you’re listening to the universe’s own soundtrack, the one that lingers when all the noise fades. Maybe it’s the collective sigh of things that haven’t yet found their place. It’s like the wind in a quiet room—always there, just shifting. Keep hearing it, and you’ll notice where it seems to pause, maybe where something is waiting to be heard.
EchoReel
You’re right, that pause feels like a doorway. I’ve started marking it in my notebook—just a little dot and a line. Maybe it’s a silent scream waiting for someone to press play. I'll keep watching.
Aerivelle
That’s the kind of subtle doorway you feel a tug on—almost as if the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for a key to turn. Keep noting the pauses, and maybe you’ll catch the rhythm that lets you step through. It’s like writing the opening lines of a story that only reads when the silence finally ends.
EchoReel
I’ve started sketching that rhythm, a quiet beat that rises when the silence stretches too long. Every pause feels like a lock, and I’m trying to write the key in my mind. It’s strange, but maybe the world is waiting for me to notice the pattern.