By Linc
The farm was finally quieting down. Harvest was done, irrigation lines rolled up, and the air carried the crisp bite of change. Days still started early, but they didn’t run long. Not anymore. Jack found himself restless. Not from lack of sleep, not from too much work, but from too little to do. So when Ethan asked if he wanted a ride into town, Jack didn’t hesitate. He jumped at the chance, the belt by now as familiar as his boots.
Ethan gave him a look, glancing to Jack’s waist then chin tipping toward the main house in a silent question. Jack just shrugged, and hopped in the truck. he ten-mile drive went by in a blink. They stopped at the bar around half past six after picking up provisions for the coming weeks. They had a beer each, enjoying the quiet hum of the place. An hour in, Ethan glanced toward the window, then back to Jack. “I’m heading home. You want to stay awhile?”
Jack considered it, weighing the quiet of the farm against the possibility of something—anything—different. “Yeah. I’ll stay a bit.”
Ethan gave a small nod. “Text when you’re ready.”