" We all laughed, but it wasn't really a room for laughter. Nor for tears, oddly, or for anger, or for any emotion other than a sort of solemnity. It was the place of absence; we were in the presence of something that had left. It was like coming to a valley where someone had once shouted, loud and joyously, and the echo of that shout had resonated between the hills and lasted a long time. But now it had vanished, and you stood on the same spot, and it was not the same. "

― Jonathan Stroud , The Hollow Boy (Lockwood & Co., #3)