The figure sits alone at the end of the worn wooden dock, feet dangling off the edge and hovering over the surface of the sea.

The sun beams over the horizon as the water embraces its warmth and reflects back its light in a cheerful rhythm. But the figure's eyes are focused on what stirs just beyond reach of the line: the exact one for which they'd been waiting.

The one that will propel the rest to follow.

With a dejected sigh, the figure begins to pack up when the line catches. They pull it in. It's the one.

It's the word for which they'd been waiting.

Now, the writing can begin.