She had read the word a hundred times before, but only now, by the river at dawn, did it truly land: the water was effervescent, and for a moment the whole current seemed to lift and breathe, each ripple catching the first pale light and breaking it into a thousand small bubbles of gold that rose, trembled, and were gone before she could name them. She read the sentence again, slower this time, mouthing the word to feel its shape, and something about the morning, the cold air, the moving water, the hush over everything, made it stay with her for good.