Taipei in December. The eastern district is preparing for Christmas, warm and lively. A young man slips alone into a café, cold pressing through his coat. He is a writer — a dreamer — who has been bouncing against the wall of reality long enough that the back-and-forth has started to feel like the only movement available to him. The dreams are still there. Reality has been blocking every path toward them. Then a voice calls his name. He turns. She is there. The balance between what he wants and what the world has been allowing him shifts, and this time, he does not intend to let go.