The scene opens up from Eleanor at her desk writing to Alex
Eleanor: (Writing)
Dear Alex
Your words stayed with me long after I read them, you spoke of chasing what we wait for, and I think you're right, waiting has always felt safer, but maybe it's time to take a step toward the unknown
I wonder if courage comes easier to some people or if it's a muscle that grows stronger the more we use it, I don't know if I'm brave
You asked me what is it that I wait for?
What pulls my soul like a tide to the shore,
What dreams do I have in silence each night,
What flicker of hope gives my darkness its light?
I wait for a world that no longer bleeds, where men plant compassion, not hunger for greed.
Where children sleep under skies full of grace, not startled by bombs, or forced to erase.
I dream of a life with no echo of war, no marching of boots, no locked iron door.
No mothers who cry over bloodstained land, no broken eyed soldiers with trembling hands.
I wait for the freedom to wander and see, the mountains, the rivers, the vast endless sea.
I wait for a world where the people unite, not bound by belief, but by love and by right.
Where skin tone and faith are not reasons to hate, where kindness is common and empathy great.
Where hands reach for hands, not clenched into fists, and justice exists not just merely insists.
Where nations are neighbors, and hearts beat as one, and peace is a promise that's never undone.
I long for the sunrise in faraway lands, to run through the deserts, to touch foreign sands.
To taste every language, to feel every sound, to be nowhere and everywhere, soul unbound.
What do you dream of Alex? If you could go anywhere, do anything, what would it be?
Sincerely
Eleanor
She puts the letter inside the mailbox, and on the other side Alex takes the letter and reading it, after a few minutes he start writing
Alex Hopper: (Writing)
Dear Eleanor
Your dreams sound extraordinary, and the way you write about them makes them feel so alive and poetic
If I could go anywhere? Hmm... I'd visit places full of history and stories, ancient libraries, forgotten ruins, places where time seems to stand still, but my real dream has always been to write something that lasts, something that speaks to people long after I'm gone
Sometimes, though, that dream feels impossible, like shouting into the void, as I said before, but writing to you feels different
Sincerely
Alex
He places the letter in the mailbox and a beep sound can be heard, as he is doing that he gets a phone call from his agent Claire
Claire: (On the phone) Alex, you're on a deadline, the publisher isn't going to wait forever
Alex Hopper: (Frustrated) I know Claire, but I'm working on something else right now, something... personal
Claire: (Sighing) You're always working on something personal, if you want to stay in this business, you need to focus on stories that sell, remember?
Alex Hopper: I'll get it done ok? Just... give me a little more time
She hangs up the phone in frustration, Alex gets back to writing his story
The End Of Chapter 03…