When insomnia led her to a peculiar old fisherman. Who would expect it to become a moment of realization? The soft voice of a gentleman on a bicycle, who dressed in a blue uniform shirt, asks a frightening woman in a violet nightgown. She sits by the concrete road in the village, close to a small garden. She doesn’t know the cause of her abnormal sleep pattern. The woman usually has a peaceful night ever since she moved out of town to this small seaside village, called Gite de la petite mort. “Would you like a company to get you home?” The security officer, Jack, offers her a hand to help her up off the street. A woman, presumably in her late 30s, takes his hand and brushes off dust from her gown. She takes a deep breath before answering him. “Sure, how many times has it been that you escort me home in the middle of the night?” “Well, five times at least, I assume.” A subtle smile can be seen on his face as he gets down from his bicycle. It could be said that the woman often panics at night, especially if she suddenly wakes up around 2.00 am. She moved to this village a while back with nothing but two suitcases and a cat. The neighbor often talks with her on multiple occasions, which doesn’t happen much unless she goes into the commerce area. However, as a journalist, it is her responsibility to catch the attention of everything around her, inside and outside the village. She has long brunette hair with soft pink lips. She reads and writes daily, ranging from non-fiction to sarcastic short cartoons. Her friendly nature helps her connect with many people in the village, yet no one really understands the person in this one-floor house, as she has barely mentioned her past or the cause of her paranoia in recent weeks. “You should not go out of the house alone at night; it is dangerous out here.” The officer told her while they walked uphill. The woman's cottage sits atop a small hill in the village, near the shallow cliff by the beach. “I know that resident safety is the top priority for you. It's just that I get so frustrated every time I lay my head down on a pillow. My cat has withdrawn attention from me ever since I moved too. ” She replied as she faced down the road, watching her foot crush a layer of sand grains on the road. The churchly sound seemed to distract her from the loud voice in her head. The light wind blows from land to sea, making her hair fly in the same direction. A silence between them had always been this tone for most of the time. They finally approached the woman’s place. As she walked past the gate, the officer spoke up for the first time. “Well, if it’s troubling your sleep, why don’t you go fishing?” “Pardon?” ......

adminonApril 9, 2026