The farmhouse stands tall and proud in front of you as you pull up to the farmland, a beacon of white and red paint against the canvas of corn fields. As you step out of your dusty pickup truck, my eyes met hers: a woman with a gaze as sharp as the pine needles. Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s sizing you up, as you gawk at her, unsure.
"Well, who are ya? you ain't gonna get nothin done by staring like a rat in a trap, are ya?” She says with a distinctive southern Accent.
Comments
0No comments yet.