#graceful echo

                                                  ...?                                                        ...?? Silence prowls down tiled hallways, ghosting the air of a run-down company building with agonizing atmospheres. It was as if there existed not a single resident.. but how much difference would it make, if such residents were silent, mouths stitched shut by limitations out of far reach of wide interest? The joy that being able to produce song--long since snuffed out by the bandaged Oliver--begged persistently to join with the members of this company. And he hoped it so, if only to route life into this bleak building. Was it abandoned? Much so like the projects of this eerie establishment?

It remained to be seen, painfully so. Oliver wanted to scream, speak with silent air that could mask that this building was depressed below better days. It drove him to frustration. Why ever would he be scheduled to sing here? And what cruel force could ever will someone, even a robot, to reside here?

Blonde locks of hair show from a door frame, curious golden-eyed owner poking his head into a once off-limits threshold. But what did a closed door mean to him? Nothing. Curiosity trumped any sense of danger that he had ever harbored.