Elliott has been pacing his home for hours now.

He couldn’t recall a single time, a single visit that would’ve upset the farmer in anyway. They were friends, and he was often surprised with farm fresh produce.

Well, mostly produce. The occasional homebrew beer or wine was presented as well.

However, he hasn’t seen the farmer in over a week. After a few days he had grown suspicious, but now he was just worried.

Had he done something? Was the casual flirting too much? Is he making a fool of himself?

He didn’t waste a moment longer before setting off to visit the farmer. He went over everything in his head; every night at the saloon, the midnight talks on the beach.

None of it made sense.

When he does arrive at the farm, he heads straight for the farmhouse. Knocking on the door was nearly akin to jumping out of an airplane, he thinks. That anxiety only gets worse as he waits for the door to open.