Footsteps Without an Echo

The world had dulled to concrete gray, with fog that never went away. Each step I took felt out of place, like time had slowed its heavy pace. The buildings leaned with broken pride, and windows watched with hollow eyes. No voice, no bird, no breath of wind, just echoes of what might have been. I passed through halls the past forgot, where silence throbbed in every spot. A swing still swayed without a sound, like grief that clung to rusted ground. My sweater red against the gloom stood out like fire in a tomb. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream, just wandered through a faded dream. And still I walked not just to flee, but chasing shards that felt like me. A hush, a breath, a nameless trace, a soul adrift, still seeking place.