Half-remembered, her face drifts through the mind like something glimpsed between sleep and waking — beautiful, indistinct, and unsettling in its refusal to settle into certainty. The light is low and ambered with age, a theatre stage suspended in shadow, where silence feels heavier than sound. The place itself no longer exists: it faded, decayed, and was finally erased, yet it persists intact within memory, anchored to a winter in 1990. What remains is not a story but an atmosphere — a quiet, lingering sense that something once lived there briefly and then vanished, leaving only its echo.