Prompt

A single, selfsiphoning filament of reversed nostalgia, shaped like a fractal tangle of unremembered childhood whispers, drifts through the center of a vast, inverted lighthouse built from the compressed, unlit moments of a civilization that communicated through the duration of synchronized, silent watching of the same unlit beacon. The filament does not recallit unremembers, each pulse dissolving a layer of warmth that never coalesced into a shared memory, reforming into ephemeral, rosequartzveined afterimages shaped like the negative space between two hands that never held the same flashlight in the same moment of mutual wonder. The lighthouse is not maritimeit is a stratified expanse of petrified longing, each

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