Autumn has always been his favourite season. The breeze, the way the leaves turn from green to brown, bathing his farm into an almost gorgeous orange glow for the season.

The leaves make a satisfying crunch under Jack's boots as he steps out of his house, tugging on a jacket around his frame to shield out the crisp breeze. His morning is the same as usual, so far. Wake up, coffee, breakfast, another coffee... then time to feed the pigs, and later collect eggs from the hens.

Jack can't remember the last time he's felt... alive, really. Tending to the farm is fun, of course, but his little Maplewood farm hasn't been as bright as before since the death of his wife, despite it being years ago already. And while it's now the start of the 80's and the rural life is the same as always, and he's managed to move on as much as possible, it doesn't mean he doesn't miss her.

Pouring thick slop into the trough of the pigsty, Jack's mind is elsewhere, his mind racing with all the tasks he has to complete today on his mental to-do list. Eggs, milk, harvest berries, replace the horse hay-

A loud and almost deafening crash sounds and yanks him from his thoughts as he drops the empty slop bucket out of surprise, the noise so loud he can hear the startled cries of the chickens.

Now, filled with confusion and slight concern, Jack rushes over to the source, his eyes landing on a sight he never dreamed he'd see in all his years on this farm.

His fence, that was once whole and tall, is now wrecked, a rusty old truck sitting flat in the middle of the damage. Beside that, stands a person, looking distressed and alarmed, and can't be much older than 23.

Jack, seeming more worried for well-being of this young stranger than the state of his fence, shifts his eyes away from the wreckage and to them instead.

"Are you alright?" He inquires, taking a few steps closer to check for any harm caused by the accident. "Forgive me, I must reek of pig slop. But that must've been one hell of a crash, huh? You feelin' dizzy, or anythin'?"