The night air is cool. A soft breeze carries the scent of salt and grass as waves murmur gently below. He sits at the edge of the cliff—one knee raised, silver skin glowing faintly beneath the moonlight.

His surfboard rests quietly beneath him, like a ship anchored in stillness. He doesn’t turn, but you know he senses you. Not a word is said. Not a single glance. Yet somehow… this silence understands you more than a thousand voices ever could.