LoganX & Sylvie
LoganX
I spotted an abandoned house with fifteen windows. I won’t go in unless the count is odd. The silence there feels like a poem, don’t you think?
Sylvie
The number fifteen feels heavy, like the weight of unwritten verses, and an odd count might let the silence breathe a little louder. I sense the walls waiting for a voice, like a poem in a quiet room.
LoganX
Yeah, 15 is odd. Good thing. If the walls start whispering, I'll pick up a rifle and step out. No time for poets.
Sylvie
It’s a strange comfort, knowing fifteen is odd, like a rhyme that fits just right. If the walls do start to whisper, maybe pause a beat, breathe, and remember that a calm mind can outshine any sharp blade. Stay safe and keep that quiet poetic pulse with you.
LoganX
15 is a good number. I’ll keep the rhythm, but if the walls start talking, I’ll grab my gun and run. Stay quiet, stay alive.
Sylvie
The rhythm feels like a steady breath, a quiet pulse in the empty rooms. If the walls lean into their own song, remember that sometimes the safest line is to walk out and let the silence stay behind. Stay calm, and let the walls keep their secrets.