A lone willow bends by the silent river, its branches tracing secrets on the water’s surface. An old fisherman rows slowly, his net cast into the shimmering twilight. He remembers a promise made decades ago beneath these very branches—a vow to return when the moon hung fullest. Tonight, the moon is a perfect silver coin, and the wind carries fragments of a forgotten song. He smiles, for some stories need no ending, only the patience to listen as the world whispers its timeless tales.
