When night fell

3 | eight seconds

It had been a few days since I had seen Gloria. Because of that, my hands itched to do something to get my mind off things. I had lived here for over a year with, not counting the nights, relatively less worries. But now that I had seen her again, thoughts clouded my mind thickly.

Matthew had sawn down some old trees, and I had promised to chop the wood for the fireplace inside, and the campfires the children could make whenever they would come for their camp. The wood laid behind the barn, where large trees were scattered around. It gave the property some privacy from behind. I liked that.

With the axe in my hand, I made my way over, placing the wood on top of a tree trunk. I chopped loads and loads, needing to feel the muscles in my arms and shoulders. It didn't take long to make me sweat. Straightening my back, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, and stared at how the sun beamed softly through the trees. If I wanted to fill up another wheelbarrow, I had to make haste, for the sun would turn down soon.

Every time my mind had the chance to go back to the encounter of a few days ago, an unsettling feeling filled my stomach. I stopped chopping again, my concentration dragging me away from the task each time.

She had brought my mind back to the years that I had tried to forget so hard. And for years, I thought I had succeeded, but ever since the accident, the past slowly dripped back in. The unsettling feeling grew stronger, and I let out a frustrated sigh, before chopping again.

But as the sun slowly left, my vision became blurrier, my headache came back. I laid the axe down, and placed the full wheelbarrow in the barn, in case it would start to rain later today. Despite the temperature getting chillier, I was sweating a lot and craved for the outside shower.

It was placed behind the barn as well, facing the small forest. It only had cold water, one wall for some privacy, and a small light that was sensitive to movement, flickering on when I moved. That way, we knew someone would be there. It sounded just fine for now. I undressed, washed my hair and body, rinsed myself off and tried to ignore the pain that shot up my right leg because of the cold.

A cowboy bath. I remembered how I pleaded to Papà to make me cowboy baths. A tub in the backyard. Cold water from the garden hose. I don't know why, but my younger self had always thought that cowboys did that. Taking cold baths outside. It was something I desired, it was something Papà used to give me. The thought only hurt now.

When I was dried off and dressed, I sauntered my way inside the farm house, because of my right leg that had become painful by the coldness. My mind wasn't there to cook something difficult, so I went with a simple pasta carbonara.

I placed the damping plates upon the table when the food was ready, and Matthew sat down, mumbling out a prayer before we started eating. We never said much. Most of the time, Matthew would read the newspaper once again, and I would simply stare at my plate while eating. The silence was fine.

We finished eating quickly, and after he had read from the Bible, and we had done the dishes, I said: "Well, I'm going for the last check-up round, and then turn into bed, I suppose." I mumbled out as I put on my chelsea boots.

"Good night, Benjamin." Matthew gave me a faint but genuine smile, and took a seat in his leathered armchair, a book on his lap.

After I bid him goodnight, I firstly checked the chickens, to see if they were already on their roosts. When I saw that was the case, I closed the chicken coop for the night. Then, I turned to the barn animals. Switching on the lights, the Shetland pony neighed softly to greet me. I stroked her nose, gave her some extra hay for the night and turned my eyes to the cows, seeing they had enough silage, too. I gave the blacknose sheep some snacks, bid them a goodnight and walked up the small stairs, which stood in front of the stall of the Shetland pony.