In Headphones and Shadows, She Waits

In the dim glow of a forgotten room, she sat draped in silence, save for the steady thrum whispering through her headphones. Green hair spilled over her shoulders like strands of static, catching the occasional flicker from a broken light above. The shadows clung to her like old memories—soft, heavy, impossible to shake. Her eyes were half-closed, tuned in to something no one else could hear: a signal buried beneath the city’s noise, a lullaby made of data and longing. Every breath she took was synced with the pulse of some distant beat, as if her heart only knew how to keep time in binary.

They called her a ghost in the grid, a myth wrapped in emerald and leather. She didn’t speak, not with words—only with presence, with silence, with that haunting, ever-present music. No one knew what she was waiting for. Maybe a message. Maybe a memory. Maybe just the right song to crack the walls she built around herself. But in that strange room of wire veins and flickering shadows, she was a mystery suspended in sound—a girl caught between worlds, listening for a frequency no one else could find.

Requested by Malicious Quits