Stephen missed his vineyard. He hadn't realized how much he had come to treasure the long walks in the country, absent from the rest of the world. He had always been a social creature in his youth, always surrounded by a myriad of people. Even at his vineyard he held frequent parties for his friends and fans -- and he had never thought his lonely walks to be of much significance until now.
Now, he craved the warmth and color of the countryside. He even longed for the smell of fertilizer. Somehow, ambling along had provided him with a sort of freedom that he hadn't even realized he'd achieved...
Either that, or he was just getting old.
His search for a walk in the outdoors had brought him here to the beach. It wasn't a particularly colorful beach like those you saw in photographs of Hawaii, but it was, at least, a quiet beach, and he was able to find the time to think.
The waves breaking against the shoreline provided Stephen with a sort of rhythm, and a melody began to unfold in his head. He tapped his pant leg gently as he hummed, as though there were a keyboard hidden in the denim.
"Gold," he muttered under his breath between hums. "Gold sparkles--no, it doesn't sparkle. It gleams." And still his fingers tapped out a rhythm on his thigh. "It gleams like... Who's that?"
Steven squinted at the approaching young man, whose hand was lifted in a wave. Immediately, the musician put on a pleased smile, assuming, of course, that he had been recognized, and lifted his hand to return the wave.