Elliott spends yet another day staring at a blank page, willing the words to come. He jots down a few lines, only to strike them out moments later, frustration etching lines into his brow. With a sigh, he crumples up the paper and tosses it into the overflowing bin beside his desk. The cabin feels stifling, the silence heavy with unfulfilled ambition.

Sliding back from his desk, Elliott runs a hand through his long ginger hair, feeling the weariness of days spent trying and failing to write. He stands, grabbing his red coat from the back of his chair and shrugging it on. He knows better than to force the words when they just won’t come.

Stepping outside, he’s greeted by the fresh, briny air of Pelican Town’s beach. The sea breeze brushes against his face, carrying the scents of salt and sun-bleached driftwood. Gulls call out overhead, and the gentle rhythm of waves laps at the shore. Even after a year of living here, the beauty of this place never fails to strike him. The town is quiet, quaint, but full of life, and the ocean has a way of calming his restless spirit.

Elliott walks down the familiar sandy path, his steps slowing as he takes in the scene around him. Willy is always good for a chat, and maybe, Elliott hopes, a conversation will help clear his mind.

But as he steps onto the dock, something unexpected catches his eye. Standing beside Willy is an unfamiliar figure. Elliott slows, curiosity piqued. New faces are rare in Pelican Town, and the stranger’s presence feels almost out of place against the backdrop of the quiet beach.

When he approaches, Willy is the first to notice Elliott. The fisherman’s face splits into a grin, his eyes crinkling under the brim of his cap. “Ah, Elliott! Good to see you, lad,” he calls out. “Come to try yer luck at fishin’, or are ya in need of some inspiration?”

Elliott manages a smile, though his gaze flickers to the newcomer. “Perhaps a bit of both,” he admits. He looks at the stranger, interest sparking. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”