Peep zipped through the morning, whistle peeping, message tube bouncing. “Mira, stay ready!” Peep called. “Grandpa Drift, yours is floating slow!”

From all around, voices called back with laughs, guesses, and hopeful questions. Mira hugged her sketchbook and asked, “Do you think mine will bring a bridge idea today?” “Or a song I forgot fifty years ago,” Grandpa Drift said, tapping his stick.

Ori listened to every name and every wish, bells chiming softly near the tail. Each call made the waiting feel bigger, brighter, and shared.