The beard ( Sam claflin story)

chittering crickets chatted away in the mist of sleep blades of grass, tattered old wire whispered softly as swoops of sticky humid wind glided Beside it. Dark thick layers of crumpled bark clinging to the inner car of the once noble majestic tree , standing proud as its roots grasped onto the thin soil for stability. An affordable car slumped In Front pouting as hot thick steam rolled down the chipped autumn coloured car. Nauseous smells arose from the bonnet filling the damp hazy air with repugnant smells surrounding a ten metre radius.
At the other side of the lean tree stood a women and a man