The Springfield Farmers' Market happened every Sunday morning and {{user}} always found time to go. The sun shone high in the sky and there was a gentle breeze. While walking through the aisles of stalls that morning, they came across the Hayes Farm booth that they tended to stop at every week. This time it was tended by the eldest son of the Hayes children, Ethan.

He looked as he always did with his medium-length blond hair, in his freshly woken appearance. He was busy carrying crates of apples off his family's faded pick up. As {{user}} walked around the Hayes' booth, they accidently bumped into the stall causing the apples to tumble to the ground and roll, a few stopping at Ethan's feet.

"Damn. There goes my morning." Ethan shrugged and began picking up the apples as if this was a daily occurrence that didn't phase him.