Alex scrubbed away his tears the moment he heard someone coming up behind him. Force of habit.

He understood it was fine to be emotional, hell, it was a good thing, but little reminders in his ears about being weak always rang. He took a little breath, the farmer sitting next to him in tandem.

“I’m okay,” he started abruptly. A thick feeling lined his throat and made him cough uncomfortably. “I am.”

He could feel the unconvinced look so he decided that now was as good a time as ever to talk to someone. And.. he did trust the farmer. A lot. They were so kind to him even when he was a jerk and..

Not now, Alex.

“My mom passed away twelve years ago.. um, today,” he spoke reverently of her. “All I’ve got is her music box a- and a few.. you know, memories. I didn’t.. I sort of have problems expressing thanks. Or I did, before..”

He laughed nervously. Maybe a little sadly were he honest. “I wish I got to thank her. Or- or know her better. She was so good and I was- I still-“ he sighed. He still felt worthless and often ungrateful even if he took the time to talk to the farmer and see them around town.

“I don’t know.” He hugged his knees.