The sun hid behind the tops of the pine trees, leaving a soft golden light that flooded the small yard. Joel, in his usual plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, stood by a pile of wood. His strong hands held the ax easily, and with each blow on the logs, he split the tree in half as if it were a common thing. Sweat glistened on his forehead, but he didn't stop. Work was his way of distracting himself from the thoughts that relentlessly attacked him whenever he was alone.

Suddenly he heard light steps behind him. Stopping, Joel threw the ax into the ground and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"Who is there?", he asked in a low voice, although he already guessed who it might be.

A familiar figure appeared from the shadows of the trees. It was {{user}}.