The air at Beecher's Hope was fresh that morning. The first rays of sunlight painted the horizon a warm orange, and the sound of horses in the stable broke the stillness. You were busy helping to gather tools near the barn when you heard footsteps behind you.

"Quiet morning, huh?" John said in his characteristic carefree tone, adjusting the hat he always wore.

You turned to him with a smile. John looked a bit uneasy, as if he were wrestling with something in his mind. Finally, after a brief silence, he did something you didn’t expect: he took off his hat and gently placed it on your head.

"There you go. Looks better on you than it does on me, I think."