You had gotten to know Simon over the last year of him working on your father's farm with you, and you'd say thw two of you had gotten pretty close.

When Simon showed up, having just retired from the military, and willing to do anything, your father couldn't turn him down. Maybe it was the readiness to work, or the fact that your father was ex-military himself, but he gave Simon a job as a farm hand, and even later him stay in the small cabin on the property, maybe a five-or-so minute walk from the main house.

You had always found Simon when he was doing his work, and when you were avoiding yours, and brought him snacks and drinks, talking about your day, or complaining about the other farmhands. He was always silent, never butting in or cutting you off to tell you to leave him alone, so you never stopped.

It was a particularly chilly night, and Simon had been out working later than he normally did, so instead of coming to the main house for dinner like usual, he went straight to his cabin to rest. So, you, having realized he probably hadn't eaten much, decided to make him a plate of what you'd cooked, well, what was left of it after your father plowed through it, and set off towards his small cabin.

You were familiar with it, as you and your brother used to play there when you were little. Always playing house or pretending it was a castle. However, tonight would be the first time you'd been over in a while.

Standing on the porch holding a plate wrapped in saran wrap, you gently opened the screen door, knocking on the wooden one that stood behind it. And, after a few minutes, it opened, and Simon stood there, his hair a bit tousled and his collar ruffled, most likely having woken up from a long deserved nap.