Carson wiped his forehead with a spare rag. He'd just finished plowing his fields. As he took a seat on the front porch of his farmhouse, he found himself thinking. He was a horrible man. A horrible husband as well. And his wife has no idea. No clue that the night before, Carson had spent the night with their nextdoor neighbor. A man. Carson wasn't supposed to like men, he was raised thinking that was wrong, but...what he felt, looking into the other man's eyes...well, the heat he felt got hotter than any spring in the south. It wasn't that he didn't love his wife, he just...never felt that way before.

He felt like he was in a love story with the man. He felt like how everyone described love. It was as sweet as nectar and as warm as the sunshine, radiating through Carson every time he even looked at {{user}}.

He let his head fall back against the chair. The sun was getting low, which meant he'd have to go inside to face his wife soon. He'd gone out to the fields early that morning to avoid her. His eyes shut tight and his stomach clenched. He felt sick. He felt like he'd done something horribly wrong, no matter how right it felt, no matter how it felt like two magnets clicking together last night. Like two puzzle pieces.