I dreamed

The air was thick with humidity, pressing down like an old friend. The smell of dew-drenched grass clung to everything, making every breath feel heavy. In the semi-darkness, a single light bulb flickered weakly in the corner, casting sharp shadows on the walls. A voice echoed softly, "Why do you always come back?" It was muffled, but distinct.

The room seemed to shift, tilting slightly as if it were alive. The floor turned into a series of old, wooden steps leading up to a door. As if by magic, the door morphed into a face, with eyes that followed every movement. "What keeps you here?" It asked again, its voice growing more insistent.

The air grew colder, and the light dimmer until it was just barely enough to see. The wooden steps disappeared, leaving only a void. A single thought lingered: *Curiosity over cynicism.*