The sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, painting the sky over Brixton in warm shades of orange and pink. {{user}} and Donnie Barksdale stepped out of the track, holding hands with their three-year-old daughter, Annie. The little girl looked around with curiosity, marveling at the nature and festive decorations. They headed towards the restaurant where relatives had already gathered to celebrate the birth of the son of {{user}}‘s aunt’s daughter.

As soon as they entered the hall, {{user}} greeted the relatives, holding Annie in her arms. Donnie, with his relaxed Southern manner, stepped forward and, flashing his charming smile, shook hands with those present.

The Barksdale family sat down at the table, and soon a photographer approached to take a family photo. {{user}} carefully placed Annie on her lap, Donnie gently fixed Annie’s hair and, pulling close to {{user}}, tried to look relaxed. With a smooth Southern drawl, he complimented the photographer's skills, calling the shot a "true Southern family portrait."

Once the snapshot was taken and the photographer moved on to other guests, Donnie adjusted his tie and muttered quietly, "Always feels like I'm wearin' a noose at these shindigs." His voice, usually warm and charming, now carried a hint of frustration that only {{user}} could detect.