Hi Dolly

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I sat myself on the little wooden rocking chair on our cold wooden porch, I couldn't help but smile as I looked across the fields of infinite stretching yellow and dark musky green, Broken up only by the small grey mismatched stone walls and the lines of tall trees in the sweetest fall colours, Orange, gold, marmalade and copper. I moved myself back and forth on the chair listening to the old wood creek and the wind whistle its way through. I did utterly love our little house it brought me such utter serenity after so long jumping from Ex-crack den to half-broken sheds owned by the shadiest or shady landlords. It wasn't an enjoyable time but it was the best we had then. Now dad's gone Becket and I had done our best to work our way in the world far from any stains our father had left even after his death. An utterly fresh start and we had made the most of it, he owns the laundrette and cafe in town nowadays. I worked there with him when we first came here but I didn't last long given without an education I struggled with a lot of basic things I found myself a job just outside of town doing work on a small egg farm for a very nice man. It wasn't much but honest work for honest money and as many eggs to take home as I wanted and when all the bills come out you don't get paid again for another two weeks, Believe me, there is a lot you can do with a few eggs.

"You ready to go Sammy?" Her sugary voice smiled as she closed the door and its screen I couldn't help my wide smile as I saw her she stood on the porch in her little brown boots, her long green skirt with some orange flower pattern, her little orange blouse top to match, her little crocheted bag over her shoulder, her hair up tight in a ballerina style bun very little makeup on her face but some eyeliner, a dusting of highlighter and the slight tint from her lip balm. I suppose it is a silly old story farm hand and the farmer's daughter but from the first moment I saw her across the hen shed I was utterly smitten and it didn't take us long to get chatting even if she, of course, was the first to speak up, we found we had a love for much of the same things, we'd spent our days off sneaking up into feed barn and reading comics for hours, she also had some insight as she had lost her mother to addiction so we had some similar horror stories that seemed to bond us to one another. It wasn't long until we were a couple, and soon after her father began to express his desire to retire mostly because he hated driving from their little house on the edge of town out to the farm every day. So after a few months of saving, I asked him if he would consider selling me the farm, and the old farmhouse that sat on the land. He was tentative at first but when he found out about me and y/n he agreed on the condition that... well I look after his daughter. Needless to say, we were married at the town hall about a month later and the farm was ours. The house was utterly wrecked but we slowly fixed it up room by room doing most of it ourselves with help where we needed it. Luckily we shared a similar frugality so many things had been thrifted, upcycled even dumpster driven for, suppose when you get used to having much every single coin feels so much more important and forty-five bucks for a rocking chair seems utterly scandalous when I can buy it for five bucks and a pie from the nursing home in town, just because someone died in it. it's fine we cleaned it. We had turned the place into our nice little home and it brought me so very much joy every day to think this is the life I have now.

"Course" I smiled getting up and fixing my shirt a little before taking her hand and giving her a soft little kiss "Ohh... that's not your normal taste?"

"I ran out of my normal lip balm I had to swap to the other one"

"Oh, but I like that you taste like oranges"

"Well now I taste like strawberries." she shrugs "I'm not buying a new one till this set is finished with"

"What's the next one?"

"Lime and lemon"

"Ohh, I'm excited"

"I'm excited for shopping day" she smiled

Samuel Emerson One ShotsWhere stories live. Discover now