From the back of the room, a faint sound of water can be heard. A quiet, rhythmic sound, like water rippling in a bowl. The voices of the black and white cats are low, melting together, intertwining in wordless moments. Shadows draw near, pull away, and overlap again. Every time fingertips touch, fabric rustles, and their breaths sync up a beat late. The sound of water splashes softly, and the light flickers. A time that isn't rushed, yet never stops. They don't seem to notice you at all. Shiro lets out a small breath, and Sumi falls silent as if to envelop it. Every sound is sweet and syrupy. It feels like it might break if you step in, so you stop in front of the door. The two of them are still lost to the world, immersed in the sweet sound of water.