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His dad turned and grinned, a wide smile that deepened the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth—lines of long laughter and cheer. He waited until his father had ignited the engine and turned them back to the house. I could grill some steaks. You could see the farm. His dad lost some of the jovial expression, his face pained. Your mother comes down when she can. I got cows that need feeding and care.

William rolled his eyes. Shane splashed bleach down the produce cooler drain. It was fucking busy work, but whatever. The bleach stung his eyes, and he wondered how badly it would burn going down his throat. What it would do to his insides once there, and how long it would take. Wondered what would hurt more—swallowing bleach or being crushed in the cardboard baler. He could hide at the bottom, waiting for someone to come around, close the metal door, and press the compact button.

His body would be squished like a papaya before anyone noticed. Some people called them intrusive thoughts, but intrusive implied they were unwelcome. To Shane, this morbid little game helped the long retail hours pass.

Walking by the roll of industrial-strength plastic wrap, he imagined looping it around his neck and hanging himself from the attic above the meat cooler. He unrolled the hose from the rack by the sink, turning the nozzle on high to spray down the floors. Bleach and soap foamed together in waves across the blue tile. Said Shane looked like death and would be a liability, working in his—admittedly still painful—condition.

Three days pay, gone like that. Not that the loss had stopped him from spending his measly savings on bottles of whiskey. If ever there was a time to self-medicate, it was after your body had been beaten to hell. It was Friday now, exactly one week from the fight. What about when his drunken brain decided it was a good idea to flick a tattooed and muscled stranger in the forehead? Sure, he threw a game controller at the wall now and then, when the system froze up in the middle of a save.

That other stuff was horseplay. It felt like fucking betrayal. To his best friend, to everything he stood for. But when the fuck had he ever felt so alive?

Yeah, fine, okay. So he had liked it—big fucking deal. No, this was about someone finally giving Shane his rightful punishment. No undeserved sympathy. No feigned ignorance, looking the other way or excusing his behavior. He squeezed water across the tile, stopping to stare as it spun in a cyclone down the grates of the drain.

When his shift ended Shane exited the double-doors of JojaMart, yanking off his hat and stuffing the unflattering thing in his pocket. He scrubbed his hands through his hair to loosen it, walking with his head down as usual.

It was a gorgeous summer day. While Stardew Valley had been going through a heatwave lately, the current temperature was pleasant with a warm breeze, seagulls cawing as they circled overhead in the late afternoon sun. There was a low rumble on one side of the store where a delivery truck waited in neutral, then the slam of metal as its door closed. How he should thank the guy, even? Shane could feel him approaching from behind, though not looking back to confirm it.

He just heard the slow footsteps, steady on the sidewalk, and when he finally remembered how to move his feet it was clear William continued to follow him. Why did he have to slink behind like some kind of apex predator, in no fucking hurry yet clearly with his sights on Shane as the particular target?

Shane focused hard on the passing lines in the sidewalk, wondering if William could hear his pounding heart through the sleepy afternoon air. Today, the long hair that had fallen over his face during the fight was pulled back in a sleek topknot. He wore a tight black t-shirt, and Shane did a double-take at the colorfully inked arms stretching taut the sleeves. Had he really taken a punch to the face from those things? William was also, he realized, carrying a cooler in one hand.

He opened the lid and tilted it toward Shane, revealing twelve dark bottles nestled on a bed of ice. Shane almost snorted in relief. He faced forward, ignoring the beer. Only get two more paychecks as it is. He closed the cooler and dropped it to his side again. You kicked my ass too, man. Why you running from free beer?

Because, hate to break it to you—I am. Paranoid, Shane looked around from where he stood in the middle of the sidewalk. The road was empty, no one to witness whatever had just gone down. He clutched the plastic container to his chest. William turned, smirking. Still rubbing the shoulder, William looked him up and down. He shrugged. Shane glanced once more down the road. It was still deserted; still silent but for sleepy summer sounds. Hefting the cooler into a better grip in his arms he followed William, a doubtful feeling creeping into his heart.

Or come talk to us on our tumblr. We love to interact with readers! It had been a week of long, hard thinking about the best way to apologize and make amends for the fight. There was no real reason to forgive him, so he was relieved Shane had agreed to follow him out.

A bucketful of beer could only get his stupid ass so far. His mom would have paid top dollar for what he could haul out for free. He glanced sideways at Shane, taking in his appearance. Clutched to his chest was the molded cooler that William had stocked with his home brews.

Guy needs some jeans that fucking fithe thought critically. Those look like they were stocked in the clearance rack of the Joja shelves. Not wanting Shane to think he was judging him or some shit, William The Sea of Tranquality - Naked Nuras Loves Rave - Rundown Rainforest (Vinyl) his gaze away.

He pulled a mesh bag out of one of his cargo pockets to distract from focusing too much on his walking companion. The bag jingled the tools he kept in the large pockets, and reminded him of his other reason for smoothing things over with Shane. Burying her alone was a pain in the ass. Milking the herd took hours, and that was just his herd.

He still had summer harvest coming up, and shuddered to think what he was going to do during calving season. Each step reminded him of his multiple fuck-ups with learning farm life. Not having wire cutters when one of his yearlings had gotten her udder stuck in the fence. Not having a utilitool when his tractor died two hours before a rainstorm.

Not having a decent pair of pliers or roll of duct tape when fixing the sprinklers. The first year on the farm had given him a crash course in being prepared. He flashed back to a conversation he'd had with Marnie earlier in the day. They arrived at the dock and William knelt down by his first crab pot. He surreptitiously observed Shane, who moved stiffly, though no obvious pain crossed his face.

It can't happen again. Shane doesn't exist in a vacuum, much as he'd like to think he does. Shane lifted the lid of the cooler as William emptied traps, and he realized, like a dolt, he'd forgotten to include a bottle opener.

He retrieved a coin-sized opener from his back pocket. For a guy who was apparently beat to hell, his reflexes were quick and he snatched it out of the air. William looked away, frowning down at the crab pots. Reflexes like that would be damn useful for manual labor. And hand-eye coordination was good.

He popped open the next pot and tipped the crawfish into his net bag, trying to decide how to approach this. Shane put the opener to the side after catching it. At first William wondered if it was a rejection of the beer, but then Shane popped his thumb under the crown top and snapped it free from the bottle. Tough bastard like that and Marnie was worried about his arms? How well did she even know her nephew?

William went back to work, letting him settle and make his way through that The Sea of Tranquality - Naked Nuras Loves Rave - Rundown Rainforest (Vinyl) beer. Might as well let the guy chill and get in a good mood before he laid down his offer. The minutes passed and he finished emptying all the traps, then wiped his brow with his forearm. Finally, after tying the last of the catch into the net bag, he let himself look over. Shane sat, drinking, his eyes on the water. The lake was calm this afternoon, the warm breeze barely enough to ripple its surface.

There was the sound of the cooler opening, then another cap being snapped off. He wondered if Shane had ignored the bottle opener again, and for some reason the little quirk made him smile. He shook the excess water off his hands, then pulled out a handkerchief to finish drying them. After he was done he stuffed it back in his pocket, and sank down slowly and a bit stiffly next to Shane. His back gave a warning twinge.

Watching William with those same wary, deep-set eyes, he handed over the open beer and grabbed a second for himself. William nodded in thanks. He took a long drink, then made the plunge. Marnie says you're good with animals and shit.

Shane popped the bottle cap off with that thumb trick and pocketed it, as if it was a habit. William risked a look over and could see practically every muscle in Shane's neck bulging in tension. He leaned back on an elbow, casually giving the guy a touch more space, and for a moment examined the glass bottle in his hand. The brew had come out well, a blend of sweet wheat and hops. He weighed his words. Should he tell Shane that he'd been looking for him? Totally had nothing to do with imagining the way you sounded against that tree.

Nothing to do with wondering if you were okay. Not a damn thing to do with your green eyes haunting my thoughts. Shane didn't speak, his foot jiggling slightly, as if agitated. Nervous tell. Or maybe an angry one. William kept his breathing even, the way he did when trying to line up a shot during target practice. Or worse, maybe he thought William was trying to justify his own damn behavior.

Finally Shane shifted, his bottle tilting then going back to vertical. William wondered if his arms hurt still—wondered if those bruises brought the memories back to him whenever he strained or pulled himself. He drank, using the beer to hide his smile. They wouldn't be having this conversation if Shane had a single, solitary clue about the twisted pleasure William had taken in that beat-down. His voice was so soft.

He glanced at Shane for his reaction, but Shane just continued to stare at his beer. Probably he figured William was going to slug him again. Yet that energy was long gone, and all he wanted to do was figure out what exactly had happened Cue the lecture. Discretion was an attractive quality to have in a potential employee. His fingers tapped on the bottle in thought. William watched, fascinated by the sudden play of emotions that rolled across the other man's face.

So Shane had been thinking about it. I was picking a fight. I started it. The laugh escaped before William could keep it in. God, what a pair they made. Two assholes sitting by a lake. He reached out and clapped Shane on his back—and immediately felt a flash of guilt when Shane flinched from him.

The cooler was still full and William snagged a fresh beer, reclining again, icy bottle in one hand and giving Shane space. The opener lay on the dock between them and he fished it over to pop the cap. Shane might have thumbnails of iron, but William had enough busted spots on himself without having to impress anyone by opening a crown top.

Shane had just begun to chug the last of his beer, and after finishing he dropped it and stared at William in disbelief. William had been prepared to be turned down for being an aggressive fuckhead. Just because he had a beard didn't mean he was fucking Santa Claus. It ain't charity. I've got over a hundred chickens to feed since last spring.

They eat and shit a metric fuckton. Not to mention that it's summer, which means it's time to winter-prep the barns. Do you know how much work over fifty head of cattle are during the summer? William drank his beer and glared into the lake, unable to stop listing the problems he'd been quietly agonizing over for weeks. Two of my cows came down with mastitis last month and I had to bury one of them this morning. Only reason I asked is because Marnie said you might be interested. William glared into the lake, mind roiling.

Maybe charity for his own fucking peace of mind. If Shane said no, maybe he could find someone in town to help him pour a new concrete apron. He drank, irritated. If not Shane, then fucking who? Not that much younger than him, but the skater punk seemed more interested in music than putting in the hard labor a farm required.

Alex, the sports-god wannabe? He had the muscle for it. But William had an instinct about young men, and that one would swap salt for sugar and then become a defensive fuck about misreading the damn label. The cows were starting to be more work than he could afford. And though he'd been thinking about expanding into sheep and goats next year, would it be more cost effective to just sell the whole herd? He was a hefty fucker. And besides, there was no way that Joja gave a body the type of full workout farming did.

He pulled a fresh beer from the cooler and popped the cap again, this time not careful with his thumbnail. William froze for a second, eye on that single bead of blood that welled up on the dry skin. He wondered if that would be the end of the conversation, and decided to count to three in his head. DamnWilliam thought, not daring to meet his eyes.

Instead he drank, remembering an incident that had occurred two years before. It was the most bullshit, bullying act William had ever witnessed in his life. The threats had lead to Morris puffing up like a damn fish. So William had unpuffed him with his fist. It was damn neighborly, if you were to ask him. Moments like this? He finished his beer and let his forearm rest on his knee, the bottle pinched between thumb and forefinger.

Not that it mattered. His reputation on the other hand Shane looked down at his lap. What you looking for payment wise? What was the standard rate for farm work? He was embarrassed setting a pay scale.

William waited, fingers sliding the bottle back and forth. William shrugged. I have an extra room at my place. Last season I nearly lost one of my big milkers and her calf to a breach birth. It was pretty touch and go. More serious than I realized when I took it on from Pops. Calving season was months off, anyway. He finished his beer and put the dead soldier to the side, then reached across Shane to get another from the cooler.

Shane pulled back, and for a second William wondered if he was afraid of him. William leaned back, popping the cap, and took a swig of his beer. William cast around for a change of subject and felt his back twinge from the hit Shane had laid on him the week before.

You box or something? You wanna start Monday? Be there at 6 am. He tilted his beer and chugged the rest, letting the thick brew slide down his throat. After finishing he sighed, contemplating the bottle.

I should charge Pierre more. He pointed his bottle out over the lake, as if he was directing a crowd. That one over there? This is the Good Shit. He realized he wanted to linger, but he had a rule about striking out. Retreat and try again later. Slinging dinner over his shoulder, he nodded at Shane. Then he started back towards his place. He swallowed and turned away again, letting the gate swing closed behind him. It was just professional business, after all. Just a job. Thanks for reading!

Shane took a drink, reluctant to admit the guy had both good taste and a talent for brewing. The heady, hoppy ale was as good as the craft beers Gus got in seasonally at the saloon, and blew away the cheap crap he used to buy at Joja. Strong too. Shane reached into his pocket and pulled out his balisong. The triple-spoked knife was like an extension of his arm these days.

Any time he sat at the dock with booze in one hand, out came the knife in the other. He flipped a few simple pinwheels, staring at the water, the act as soothing and familiar as the beer washing down his throat. Joja was closing in two weeks. It was the money that provided for Jas, and helped Marnie cover rent and utilities. Ever since eleventh grade. No interviews. No pressure. Then there was Marnie, the goddamn safety net. Wandered the town, an eye out for establishments that might be hiring.

The idea of interviewing at a new place made him want to hurl. The thought of phone calls or resumes was enough to make his anxiety implode. Garrett did. He stuck the pen in your hand and told you how to fill it out. And it kind of had; a shiny new job, handed over to him on a silver fucking platter.

Well, no. That was a lie too. He was a big enough idiot to turn it down. Almost had, until William had brought up Marnie. The ranch was struggling. She rarely talked about it, but Shane knew it was in trouble. If his paychecks disappeared for good, their household would snap under the weight of the two extra dependents. He closed his eyes, drained the beer to the bottom, and when it was gone immediately reached for another. Cracking it open, he stared at the wisps of smoke curling from the neck, wondering if he was crazy.

William had kicked the shit out of him a week ago. Now Shane was going to work for him? What kind of dumb fuck took a drunken beatdown from a guy one day, then put that same guy in a position of financial power over him the next? What about his ominous parting words that night? Until next time, Daniels.

Maybe round one was to bruise the body, and round two would be for the pride. Maybe Shane would skip Joja on Monday, and when he arrived at the farm that fucking tattooed boulder of a guy would be waiting for him, laughing at what a gullible moron he was.

He flicked his knife closed and took another drink. No such thing as a day off when you had crops to tend and animals to feed. Shane sat and drank, gazing over the water, and when his current bottle was finished he opened another and drank some more. The sun was setting, a dusky, navy curtain pulling down on the world. Cicadas and crickets became musical in the grass.

A breeze rippled the lake, and the traps that William had laid along the shore gave soft clanks as they bumped together. It was growing quite late when Shane finally reached in the cooler for another, only to come up empty. Nine brews that felt more like thirteen. Shane dumped the melting ice in the lake. He tossed his empties in the cooler with a series of clangs, then stood, grabbing it by the handle and swaying on his feet.

He was, to put it mildly, as drunk as a goddamn skunk. After a slow, stumbling walk home, Shane paused at the ranch door and looked at the cooler in his hands. He ducked into the chicken coop, tucking it behind the feed. Not truly. No more listening to some old lady prattle on about why she could eat only green bananas. No more being verbally abused when the bakery department ran out of a certain type of bread. No more being given the look, the one that said Shane was put on this planet to inconvenience people, his pallet of cereal boxes blocking their all-important sojourn to the Oaties.

No more unflattering, uncomfortable uniform. No more cleaning wads of toilet paper off the restroom floors. No more rounding up shopping carts in the sludge of winter. But having another job lined up, being able to kick that shithole to the curb guilt-free? Shane closed the coop, grinning, and returned to the front of the house. Three people were gathered around the table. Lewis, for one reason or another, had chosen to keep his relationship with Marnie under wraps at the time.

A sixty-year-old man, playing dirty little secret like a fucking kid in high school. And Marnie believed him. Marnie tsked. Shane looked up. How, exactly, had that conversation gone down? Cleared up a lot of misunderstanding there. Another wave of irritation darted through Shane. He paid me a visit this morning. Brought those melons you see on the counter, actually. Beautiful things. I have one cut up in the fridge for dessert. The melons were just to butter an old lady up, I think. He was…concerned, after your incident.

In front of Lewis, when it was none of his goddamn busybody business. Marnie waved her hand. My relationship with him long precedes yours. I think he wanted to make sure there was no bad blood between us, as business partners. Shane glanced at Jas to see if she was following the conversation, but she was busy lining green beans into the shape of a stick man on her plate.

We did. He had that reputation, after the altercation with Morris. But then he started doing all those things to help the community, just really turning things around for folks here. And of course, learning he was ex-military.

In a place the size of Pelican Town, gossip flowed in a steady and constant stream. Voices at Joja while Shane was stocking the aisles, which apparently made people think he was deaf. Voices in the background of the saloon, while he nursed a beer or whiskey neat and attempted to drown them out. Big old farmer. Stand-up fucker at heart. The things William had hissed while pinning him to the ground. Guy like that? William had said that? A couple guys letting off steam?

And Marnie fucking believed him? He crammed the chicken in his mouth, suddenly wanting to extract himself from the table as soon as possible. How many conversations had he had with his aunt this week, trying to convince her the fight meant nothing? Then in waltzes hipster farm boy, probably puffing up his chest and delivering that that line with some stupid charismatic smile, and she accepts it. None quite so impressive as yours, Shane, but a few scrapes all the same. Marnie swatted his arm.

Ignore the one person whose got both experience and need of a job? So yes, we talked, Shane. After everything that happened I was hesitant, but Bill put my mind at ease. Seemed more concerned that you might not be interested. She shook her head.

Jas, it seemed, had grown tired of making pictures with her vegetables. He told me so today. Gosh, what a beautiful name for a little girl. He walked his dishes to the sink. Jas and Lewis continued their conversation, but Marnie got up, following him.

She frowned. Shane knew that frown. He waited for it, the shake of her head, the passive aggressive comments. She only touched his shoulder. He rinsed his plate, shoved it in the drying rack with soap spots still on the back, and left for his room without saying goodnight. When William opened his eyes every morning, he came to consciousness in a kaleidoscope of pain. There were colors of cramping and throbbing that swirled his vision, and locked him on his back while he processed the daily trial.

He took stock of the aches and their sources. Scar tissue in his back muscles caused stiffness. Spasms made his shoulders tight. He could picture his spine, one long string of stacked cuffs along a curve. The doctors had warned that he was at risk for degenerative disk disease, tapping fancy screens with the white bones against a black background.

William clenched his teeth, then forced his jaw to relax. He inhaled and exhaled, each breath a raft over the wave of aching. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed up, rolling to get vertical. There was a familiar churn in his stomach. He reached over and dumped a few antacids from the bedside table into his hand, chewing the chalky disks. A flat burst of fake berry coated his tongue, but the tablets eased his stomach of the morning queases.

A few minutes after five. With a groan he got to his feet and padded into the bathroom to shower, letting the hot water loosen the last of the morning pains. His bruises had finally faded enough that she deemed him acceptable company. William shoved those memories away, firmly not in the mood to replay that particular discomfort.

He stared at the mirror. The black eye was almost completely faded, just a light yellow tint over his temple. Any bruising left on the jawline was hidden by the beard. He turned his face left and right, then pulled out his grooming kit and unrolled it on the counter.

After putting his hair up in a topknot, he combed and trimmed his beard, and rubbed in a conditioner that kept it neat.

Then came two touches of sandalwood cologne. A watch dug out of a box. A fresh handkerchief, tucked in his pocket. Minutes later the shower was wiped down, the bed was made, and his space was straightened. He headed into the living room and snapped on the weather station.

William relaxed a touch. Sun was good. A farmer should love rain, but he had reasons to dislike those days. After making coffee and feeding Ingrid he stepped onto the porch. It was still dim outside, the sun creeping up the horizon. Half of the acreage were fields, his summer harvests close to being ready.

His blueberry bushes were fat and heavy with fruit. It had taken him all his time and energy to keep ahead of the crop. Still, the summer profits were worth the effort, and his animals took care of him financially during the winter. The surrounding area was starving for artisan cheeses and mayo. His recent brewery forays had also helped make last year extra profitable.

It was parked in one of his barns, and he had a whole system of those. One barn for his tools and supplies. One for milking, one for calving. They all opened into The Sea of Tranquality - Naked Nuras Loves Rave - Rundown Rainforest (Vinyl) huge pastures where his herd spent their time. There was also his massive chicken house, up to almost a hundred birds.

Well, Head Onhe thought, when he realized he was waffling on whether to wait for Shane or start his normal routine. After all, it was work. Not a social club. William cut on the lights, stepping into a huge space of musty cow smells and moos. No matter how clean he kept it, that distinctive, earthy smell of livestock infused the very wood.

He pulled open the doors and then the pens, funneling the herd towards the milking barn. The cows, heavy with their morning milk, started down the shoot. He glanced once at the door but then turned away, determined to focus and not be caught staring at it. The kitchen was dark and quiet. Shane, freshly showered, stood in the shadows of the humming refrigerator while the coffeemaker gave its final sputters.

Marnie bustled into the kitchen and flipped on the light. Shane groaned, squinting. She crossed to the cupboard and grabbed a mug for herself, along with a loaf of bread. Might be more convenient just to drive back and pick it up for him at that time. Shane closed his eyes.

He had his own reasons for never driving to work, but there was no good argument for this. Screw her stupid logic. Marnie rolled her eyes. Thought about it while scrubbing the troughs of the coop and sweeping the stalls of the horse barn. Shane scrubbed a hand through his hair. Coffee in hand, he turned down the hall before the conversation went on any longer. Even without the hangover it was maddening. After moving to Pelican Town, he walked.

But what both methods had in common: Shane was not behind the wheel of a vehicle, and so his morning routine could go undisturbed. It ironed out the cramps in his head.

It eased the nausea in his gut. He twisted his hands in his hoodie sleeves; a forest green one today. For the first time his week was not going to be spent in the ratty blue Joja jacket and dockers, which were currently wadded up at the bottom of his hamper. If this new job was the real deal, Shane was going to chuck them into the wood stove when he got home. With one hand Shane grabbed the knob of his dresser drawer. Slowly he tugged, and it glided open to reveal a jumble of underwear and socks.

Tucked into them were a few glass bottles, shimmering under the harsh iridescent light of the room. There was one brand new fifth of whiskey, another with only a few inches left, and an empty pint. He pulled out all three and unscrewed their caps. With shaking hands, he filled the little pint container full.

He hid the big bottles back in the drawer, while the small one was slipped into the baggy side pocket of his jeans, where it was slim enough to be invisible. In case of emergencies.

Because Shane knew himself well enough to know anxiety and panic were, categorically, emergencies. Ones he was better off not experiencing too deeply his first day.

Turning to leave the room, he caught a glimpse of his reflection above the dresser. His heart sunk. The countryside was quiet and peaceful before sunrise. He sat staring into that light for several minutes with the exhaust sputtering. Finally, talking himself down from driving straight through those bushes and into the trees beyond, he shifted the truck into gear.

The tight black t-shirt around his arms. The sleek blond hair, pulled back in a knot. The drive was less than a mile, over before it began, and Shane was soon parked in the gravel on the north side of the property. He cut the engine, looking over fields lit by the faint rays of dawn.

I was right. This guy is fucking crazy. No one in their right goddamn mind would take on this much on their own. The farmhouse was dark, but there were lights on in one of the bigger barns, and its door was wide open. Shane glanced at the watch on his trembling wrist, The Sea of Tranquality - Naked Nuras Loves Rave - Rundown Rainforest (Vinyl).

Getting drunk on his first day would be stupid. Beyond their warmth smoothing his nerves, he never even felt them. Besides, William was nowhere to be seen yet, and he was parked now, with over four hours before he had to drive again. He slipped the whiskey from his pocket, uncapped it, and took three steady shots.

Just to ease his twisting stomach—make himself fucking presentable and shit. Shaking his head after it went down, he tucked the bottle into the center console, then rubbed his palms on his jeans to wipe away the sweat settling into their creases.

He had to get out of the truck and walk over to that barn. All there was to it. Come visit us on tumblr or drop a comment, we really love to hear from you guys. Shane stepped onto the farm to a chorus of soothing country sounds.

Chickens clucked. Cows lowed, and the metal from their containment rattled. As he grew closer a radio playing country music began to drift through the air, layered atop the steady swish of milking machines. The noises grew louder and louder until Shane was standing anxiously in the doorway of the barn, looking into the bright interior—and right at his new boss.

William stood beside a line of cows, attaching a milker to one of them. Clean jeans, navy tee. Well-groomed beard and topknot. He hated being this nervous. In a moment he was going to have to speak, and when had he ever been good at doing that? Just as he finally gathered enough courage to cough—because that was easier than forming actual English syllables—the cow William was leading into support gave a hard jerk.

Scowling, he cussed and swatted her on the backside before shoving her in again. William turned and midway his scowl broke into a smile. He chuckled, patting the cow on her hindquarters, then pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe The Sea of Tranquality - Naked Nuras Loves Rave - Rundown Rainforest (Vinyl) hands.

They hit like a brick. That was the introduction to this whole thing? Shane waited for him to say more, but William only grabbed another pitchfork and got to work himself. For the first few minutes he kept a close eye on his boss as they filled the wheelbarrow, sure he was going to start a conversation or give more instructions.

But no; except for the radio, it was silent as the grave. It was too easy. Instead, the pitchforking softened his nerves. Might be selling her cows, though.

Why had he said that? Start on the end and unclip. Shane nodded. He kept below the volume of the actual singer, but he had a good voice, Shane realized. Deep and able to match pitch. Just like with the rhythm of the mucking, his nerves unkinked a little bit more. They moved from girl to girl, unclipping, and once the current group was done ushered them out and brought in the next. See, dumbass? All that fucking worry for nothing. Shane finished up, and then as instructed headed to the coops.

One in particular seemed to love it, pushing her way through the clucking crowd, and Shane scooped her up. She opened her red-rimmed eyes and blinked blearily at him. William closed a box and pulled a clipboard down, jotting numbers for the eggs. Let the chickens out. Hose is behind the coop. Your feed order. Should be ready by ten. William nodded. Makes unloading easy.

The morning passed, busy but uneventful, and at a few minutes to ten Shane wrapped up and headed to the truck. As it stood, Shane helped out where he could, taking care of the coops each morning, on the weekends letting the horses run and cleaning their stable.

But out of sheer necessity she had to keep at least part-time help around, and two days out of the week her fresh-out-of-high-school hire, Hunter, came by. He hooked it to the pick-up, trying not to think about how when he returned, William was going to be working side-by-side with him again. He drove back with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the center console where the whiskey was hidden. He pulled in next to the silo and peered around for any sign of William.

Across the field, his new boss was standing with his head under the water pump. Shirtless, because why the fuck not. He was running blue-stained hands through his hair, and there were fifteen bushels of blueberries lining the fence next to him. Ducking his head below the dash, he pulled out his whiskey and downed three more shots. He stowed the bottle and sat back up, staring at the steering wheel for several seconds. William looked up at the honk.

He shook his wet head like a dog, wiped his hands on his jeans, and started walking over. Shane had removed his hoodie at the ranch, the mid-morning sun too hot, but as he slipped out of the truck he regretted it.

His old gridball tee was damp and spotted with sweat, and he felt terribly self-conscious climbing onto the trailer. Straightforward, same as before. William caught it, dropped it on the conveyor belt that rose up the silo, and kicked the machine into gear. Once again there was no pressure of small talk, and the job became like clockwork: Shane tossing, William catching, the belt carrying a steady supply of feed to the top.

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A gentle, swaying mood piece, "Naked in the Rain" is another great example of David Crosby's ability to write a confessional, autobiographical statement filled with metaphors. The clown in the song is Crosby himself, and the storm he sings about is probably his own emotions. Naked Rain is about an average middle-class family who faced a crisis that is, unfortunately, getting too familiar—the murder of a child. From birth to youth, we protect our children with every fiber of our being—with passion, with vigor, with pride—only to have their light extinguished. The acronym RAIN is an easy-to-remember tool for practicing mindfulness and compassion using the following four steps: Recognize what is happening; Allow the experience to be there, just as it is; Investigate with interest and care; Nurture with self-compassion.. You can take your time and explore RAIN as a stand-alone meditation or move through the steps whenever challenging feelings arise. The very latest chart stats about naked in the rain - peak chart position, weeks on chart, week-by-week chart run, catalogue number. Tranquility which lies some the Mojrve Desert north Ban decided only 15 miles north of the original A spokesman will have the first moon but from altitudes of naked eye but that with luck pen y plunge: do love to blast away. EDITORi If the American from the airport; Mr. Charles,at a distance of South \iet Nam. Naked Women Outdoors Rain Pictures, Images and Stock Photos. Browse 54 naked women outdoors rain stock photos and images available, or start a new search to explore more stock photos and images. {{filterDisplayName(filter)}} Duration. Clear filters. Newest results. Video shows rain in reverse. Rain the other way. Rain goes up. June 27th, New York City. Find the perfect Nude In The Rain stock photos and editorial news pictures from Getty Images. Select from premium Nude In The Rain of the highest quality. In Beyond Two Souls there is no nudity even in shower scenes you only see the top part of jodies back, im not sure about heavy rain (i only just started playing it) i have been told to tread very lightly and stay away from showering and romance as maddison. View top-quality stock photos of Nude Woman Playing In Rain Shower. Find premium, high-resolution stock photography at Getty Images.


Gagarin - Public Service Broadcasting - Live At Brixton (CDr), This Is Not Happening - James Harries - The Straight Street Session (CDr, Album), Kietel Me Niet - André van Duin - De Grootste Successen Van André Van Duin (2) (Vinyl, LP), Trio - Drum Solo - Novela - From The Mystic World (Vinyl, LP), Malaria! - Delirium (Remixed • Remade • Remodelled) (CD, Album), Were All Mad Here (Rmx), Golden Vanity - Bob Dylan - Paradise, Hawaiian Style (CD), Divide My Love - Polar Twins - Wee Small Hours At Swansneck (Vinyl, LP)

9 Replies to “ The Sea of Tranquality - Naked Nuras Loves Rave - Rundown Rainforest (Vinyl) ”

  1. Zolozragore says: Reply
    Crosby & Nash is a duo formed by David Crosby and Graham Nash during a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young hiatus. After the success of Déjà Vu, all four members of CSNY released solo albums. Crosby released If I Could Only Remember My Name, while Nash released Songs for Beginners.
  2. The very latest chart stats about naked in the rain - peak chart position, weeks on chart, week-by-week chart run, catalogue number.
  3. Shaktijar says: Reply
    Hi there! My name is Raven Raines, and I’m a recent graduate from the University of Arizona. Pursuing my lifelong passion, I majored in marketing at the Eller College of Management to set a strong foundation for my career in the marketing field.
  4. Samuramar says: Reply
    Naked in the Rain Lyrics: The clown sat speechless, looking in his mirror / Unable to remember how to paint his face / Staring at the image, slowly getting clearer / Wondering if his fear or his.
  5. Girl Naked In The Rain Pictures, Images and Stock Photos. Browse 6 girl naked in the rain stock photos and images available, or start a new search to explore more stock photos and images. {{filterDisplayName(filter)}} Duration. Clear filters.
  6. Although they only charted two songs on the Hot Dance Club Play chart, both tracks are considered classic examples of early house music and they are still remixed and played in nightclubs today. "Naked In The Rain" was a #4 hit in the UK Singles Chart and a #5 dance hit in the U.S. in , which was originally issued on blue vinyl.
  7. The acronym RAIN is an easy-to-remember tool for practicing mindfulness and compassion using the following four steps: Recognize what is happening; Allow the experience to be there, just as it is; Investigate with interest and care; Nurture with self-compassion.. You can take your time and explore RAIN as a stand-alone meditation or move through the steps whenever challenging feelings arise.
  8. In Beyond Two Souls there is no nudity even in shower scenes you only see the top part of jodies back, im not sure about heavy rain (i only just started playing it) i have been told to tread very lightly and stay away from showering and romance as maddison.
  9. Voodooktilar says: Reply
    Jan 30,  · 50+ videos Play all Mix - Naked In The Rain YouTube; Love Work Out - Duration: Crosby & Nash - Topic views. 50+ videos Play all Take It Easy Rock YouTube .

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