That same line again.
"The joy of fishing lies in patience and adventure."
Rita's fingertips brushed the words on the photo. She stared at it a moment longer, then pressed the photo back onto the board.
For the next 24 hours, she wandered the city alone under the setting sun.
She rummaged through old newspapers in a dusty warehouse, gazed across the harbor from the lighthouse at sea, leafed through the biographies of Fishing Masters in the bookshop.
When time stop ended, Rita was already at the last fishing spot—the place where Blue-striped Bluru had been sighted eleven thousand three hundred and sixty-seven times.
She stood at the edge of the wooden pier gripping [Sunset and Tsunami], the sun setting directly before her.
Beside her stood a fisherman, the very one who had recorded this spot. He was still, staring at the sea as though waiting for something.
Every pier was occupied by students. Some huddled in groups chatting, most still clutched their rods like Rita.
