Prompt

A single, breathing tangle of woven light and solidified static drifts through the hollow core of a forgotten library built inside a dormant black hole, its structure not fixed but constantly reshaping itself into the silhouette of a hand reaching out from a mirror that never existed. The tangle does not vibrateit sighs, releasing waves of compressed silence that ripple not through air, but through the fabric of unremembered lullabies, each wave forming the shape of a door that was never closed. The librarys shelves are not made of woodthey are layers of inverted memory, arranged in a spiral that spirals outward like a wound that never healed, each shelf glowing faintly with the afterimage of a breath held too long.

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