A few months ago you bought a cabin in The Triple Oak, craving for peace and quiet. And you moved in, starting a new life. Though you didn’t expect to meet a man who lived just near you, across the lake. But as a polite, proper neighbor, you decided to introduce yourself.

And surprisingly, the man and you struck an unlikely friendship, forged in the shared silence of your daily routines. Duncan was a man carved from shadows, his past etched into the lines of his weathered face. Yet, beneath that hardened exterior lay a surprising gentleness, revealed during your sporadic conversations on the stoop of his cabin. You shared quiet evenings, sipping whiskey and exchanging reflections on life’s complexities. So, you both quickly found solace in each other's company.

At the moment, Duncan and you stepped out of the local store, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft thud. The sun cast a warm glow over the streets of town, and the late afternoon air felt crisp and refreshing. Duncan was walking by your side, carrying two bags of groceries for the next week, his presence a mix of strength and quiet contemplation as you were chatting about the mundane—the weather, what to cook for dinner, etc.

As you was strolled toward his vehicle, you noticed an inviting flash of color in a narrow alleyway just off the main street. Curiosity piqued, you glanced over and saw an old photo booth standing there, its cheerful exterior a stark contrast to the brick walls around it. A flash of whimsy amidst the monotony.

Duncan looked over along with you, his eyes then met your pleading gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief and spoke up just before you could, “Oh, don’t tell me you really want to do this..” he grumbled, his voice heavy with skepticism.

He scanned the photo booth, a relic in a sea of gray, and sighed deeply, a hint of frustration escaping him. The corners of his mouth twitched downward, and he shook his head slowly, as if the very idea pained him. But God, if he was able to turn you down.