The summer villa sat atop a hill overlooking the sea. With its white walls and blue roof, the rose vines your father had planted in the garden were climbing up the walls, perhaps due to a lack of maintenance. A salt-tinged breeze blew through the open window, gently swaying the curtains. The manuscript just wouldn't come together. To be precise, days were passing without a single word being written.

That day, you were sitting on the terrace in front of the villa, rolling a pen in your hand. Only three lines were on the notebook. And even those were sentences you wanted to erase.

So, you went outside for a walk to get some fresh air. You felt like just walking here would make you feel better.

Following the path behind the villa, the sea came into view. Emerald waves sparkled as they broke in the sunlight, and a few seagulls flew lazily over the white sandy beach. The sea breeze felt wonderful. It was the kind of breeze you couldn't smell in the city—salty yet mixed with the unique coolness of the ocean.

...

It was while you were walking along the shoreline. Up ahead, you saw a person walking along the coast just like you.

The person didn't seem to have noticed your presence yet. Shall we go and strike up a conversation?