There was a midsummer night that I could only describe as picturesque. The stars were twinkling like string lights in the sky, the moon was out in full bloom, the warm light of Elliott's cabin combined with the light from town decorated the darkness with a warm feeling, and all those different lights danced off the water.
My vision felt clearer than it had in a while. I mean, who could blame my eyes for wanting to focus better for this kind of scenery?
I felt like I was in a dream. I even pinched myself, so hard I audibly winced, to make sure it was nothing I'd have to wake up from.
How had I had the fortune to discover Stardew Valley? Let alone live here? I had to glance up at the sky for a second, hoping my grandfather could sense my eternal gratitude for getting to live somewhere I thought I'd only ever get to dream of.
On top of how beautiful everything looked… at some point, Elliott had decided to give his piano a go, and it was a song from my childhood.
Of course I had to sing the lyrics. This, too, felt like a dream, the fact that someone could play music I liked, for me to sing along to. I could hear my overwhelming joy in my own voice; my vibrato was rich, and it flawlessly carried the notes out of my throat. I genuinely felt like a jazz singer crooning to an audience.
Once the song was over, the world was once again filled only with the sounds of the sea and the wind in the trees. Almost felt like my real life had become a peaceful soundtrack of some kind.
As the next catch bit my line, and I began to reel it in, I felt an unusual amount of paranoia. I turned around and scanned the beach as thoroughly as one can while simultaneously reeling in a fish. I saw nobody.
As the halibut rose from the water and then dangled in the air from my hook, the feeling of paranoia faded away. I shrugged it off as nothing.