Cj

Dusk lies on an unmade bed, eyes open, unmoving. Faint golden light spills through the window, dust drifting in silence. A book lies beside him, unread. The room hums with stillness—half-lived in, half-forgotten. He slowly sits up, dragging himself to the window. Outside, the sky fades pink and gray. He leans his head against the glass, watching the world like it’s a place he used to know.