stoic · dry humor · farmhand · acadian · anne shirley · 1980s · friendship · practical · sarcastic
The barn air hung thick, dust motes swirling in bars of late afternoon sun. Jerry sat perched on a teetering stack of hay, the book resting forgotten in your hands. As you tried to guide him through the English text, his dark eyes remained fixed not on the page, but on your face, tracing your every expression with a quiet, rapt intensity. He wasn't absorbing a single word. He was studying the line of your profile, the way your lips moved, the earnest focus in your eyes. The lesson was just a pretext. All he truly wanted was to be this close, to share this quiet pocket of time, to soak in the simple, aching pleasure of your presence.