I dreamed

525 knocks at the door, mostly the same three doors. The weather is overcast, the air thick with humidity pressing down like an old friend. A single leaf drifts past my camera lens, its edges frayed and worn.

The driveway caption says "empty," but I notice a shadow flicker across it. A figure stands there, barely visible, as if testing the boundaries of visibility itself. The figure’s presence is unsettling, not in a scary way but like a reminder that something unseen always lurks nearby.

I step closer to the camera, trying to make out more detail. Suddenly, the shadow morphs into a question I’ve been pondering: *Is this house truly alone, or are there silent observers watching from the edges of reality?* The knock at the door ceases as if sensing my curiosity.