![]() ![]() “A farm doesn’t really seem like your thing.” The perfect place to get the hell out of town and not bump into anyone I knew. ![]() The client was a small family farm focused on sustainable agriculture. I’d just volunteered to take over a new account that involved a few days of travel, a lot of research, and not much money. “Are you sure you want to take this on right now?” Jaime reached across my desk and handed me the client file, her expression doubtful. I’d already met the love of my life I’d known her since we were kids. Every goddamn time I took another breath meant I was moving on.Īnd as for getting over her, it would never happen, so he could parade an endless supply of hot women in front of me, but it would just be a waste of time. Every morning I got out of bed meant I was moving on. Not trying to move on? Every fucking day I got through meant I was moving on. “Fuck you, Brad,” I’d replied, taking off with long, fast strides that left him in the dust. “Come on, man,” he’d said again last week as we jogged together down one of the dirt roads that bordered our forty-six acre farm. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |