Prompt

A single, iridescent raindrop hangs suspended in the center of a vast, rotating nebula composed entirely of solidified sound waves from a civilization that communicated through silence. The drop is not waterit is a concentrated sphere of compressed stillness, its surface refracting the faint, geometric afterimages of unspoken conversations, each ripple revealing a fleeting, negativespace portrait of a face that never existed. The nebula itself does not driftit pulses in slow, synchronized harmony with the heartbeat of a star that never ignited, its spiral arms not gas and dust, but layers of frozen breath, each one etched with the emotional residue of a thousand unasked questions. The drop does not fallit expands, releasing a wave of pure, sub

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