She steps outside.
Or is she stepping back in?
The air is different, but the silence is the same.
She looks up at the sky, then back at the ground. The bridge is in the distance. The apartment door is behind her. The street is empty, but somehow, she feels watched.
She takes a step forward.
And suddenly—
She is back in the room where everything echoes.
The clock ticks. The faucet drips. The overhead light flickers.
She whispers a name.
And this time, the silence answers.