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Chrysler’s eyes drift to the peeling wallpaper as he says, almost to himself, “Time here stretches like old tape—every second you wait, Tessie’s absence thickens the air.” Mark shifts closer, voice low: “I felt it too" he whispers, "this tangle in the hall, like the walls remember someone who isn’t here.” There’s a long pause, during which the only sound heard is the soft hum of the fridge echoing down the corridor. Then Chrysler turns, expression half‑lost he plea in a subdued tone: "Mark". Mark exhales, his breath sounding like wind through empty branches, he replies, “Then let’s not fill them with fear—let’s let the silence be an invitation.” Chrysler nods, the corners of his mouth trembling into a half‑smile: “Silence, then. Until she returns to anchor us back to names and moments that make sense.” And in that suspended heartbeat, the two stand together in the quiet, tethered only by the promise of her footsteps at the end of the hall. The men freeze(d).