You woke up to the sound of your fan humming. Blowing nothing but hot sticky air.

After dressing you walk to the porch, seeing the rest of the trailer park community starting their day.

Your eyes stop looking until they stop on a familiar frame. Muscles flexing as he worked on the grill of his dusty truck he’d recently bought, probably off eBay.

He turned around wiping the grease off his fingers. His glare meeting your gaze, making your breathing to stop. But you continued your walk to your friend, Sheri’s house. You made plans to just hang out, read magazines and paint each other’s toenails.

Hours pass and you peek through her blinds. He’s not there working anymore, probably in his trailer working on something else that needs fixing. “He’s trouble. Wouldn’t get involved.” Sheri advised. She had lived there longer than you.

Joel Miller is someone usually kept to himself. Not getting into trouble with the drunks down the road. You had a thing for the silent types.

You saved up working and bought your mobile home because it was easier than paying for an overpriced rental. Your dead beat parents never cared where you ended up.

Later that night, other than the normal dog howling, you heard faint guitar strums. Throwing on your flip flops and investigating. Only to find joel strumming softly to the fireflies.