Hallie

I knew taking this summer job baling hay and fixing fences wasn’t going to make me rich, but I figured it’d buy me some time to clear my head and put some calluses on hands that’d gotten too soft behind a desk. What I didn’t figure on was her. She showed up on my third day — hair pulled back, skin sun-kissed from mornings that started before the sun did. The boss introduced her as his daughter, fresh out of college and back home to “help out” — though from the way she handled the tractor and gave orders, I’d say she runs more than she helps. I catch myself watching her more than I should — the way she laughs with her dad, how she brushes a stray strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her glove. I tell myself I’m just here for the work, just here for the summer — but there’s something about her that makes me wonder if maybe this old farm’s got more growing than just crops this year.