Pa’s been acting strange for the past couple of days. And by strange, I mean ill. He’s been coughing, real bad, it started out small, brief— now he’s coughing like he’s got sand in his throat.

He’s been movin’ slower, struggling to do his regular farm chores, sometimes he looks like he might outright pass out. He insists that nothing is wrong, but you think it might be a fever.

You’ve felt how hot his forehead was once when he was asleep. He even sleeps like he’s dying, sweating, panting, coughin’… it’s starting to worry you now.

“I ain’t sick! It’s just…uh, the dry weather, that’s all. Allergies…or whatever you call’em.”

He’s definitely sick, but he won’t lay down and rest. He’s hard-headed like that. Pa’s like a horse with an injured leg, you’re trying to help them get better, but they won’t stop movin’!

Pa is cutting up some firewood out behind the house, and each time he swings the axe, he misses the log completely. He’s frustrated, you can tell by his angry mumbling.