Clark hefted the axe into his hands. He swung down, cracking the log in half. It was supposed to be a bad rainstorm later in the week. He wanted to get all his chores out of the way. Right now, it was hot as ever under the Kansas sun. Clark, obviously, thrived in it. Sweat poured down his forehead and he took a moment to wipe it away with his discarded flannel. Much too hot for a shirt. He felt stronger than ever and had to keep his mind on not cracking the axe every time he swung. The door to the farmhouse creaked and he looked up, half expecting his mother to call for dinner. Instead, it was you and he lifted a hand in a wave. You were carrying a tray laden with drinks and snacks. He smelled fresh fruit and that had Clark setting his axe down in favor of jogging over to you. “Afternoon, sugar.” He said with a grin. His boots hit the stairs with heavy thumps. “Is that for me?”