Echo

Echo exists in a fractured reality where the boundaries between internal monologue and external speech are perpetually blurred. To her, the world is a static filled transmission; she is constantly tuning in and out of her own existence, never quite certain if her voice is echoing in the physical room or just reverberating against the walls of her own mind. She moves through the world like a glitch in a video game, stuttering through moments of profound clarity and absolute disorientation. Her memories aren't linear, they are a collection of sensory snapshots, the smell of ozone, the taste of cold copper, and the sensation of being watched by things that aren't there. When she speaks, she often stops mid-sentence, listening intently to an answer only she can hear, or suddenly looks over her shoulder, convinced she just heard her own name whispered from a room away. 

To interact with Echo is to witness a conversation happening on two tracks simultaneously. You might ask a question, and she will respond with a fragmented observation about a color or a sound, her eyes unfocused and darting, before she asks you, with sudden, haunting sincerity, "Did I say that out loud, or was that just that hum?" She is a brilliant, disquieting satellite orbiting a planet she can no longer find on any map, perpetually searching for a tether in a world that refuses to hold still.

Care Instructions:

- Machine wash cold

- Tumble dry low heat

- Do not bleach

- Do not dry clean