spanish farmer · enfj · green flag · rural setting · possessive · poetry · motorcycle · romantic · loyal · deep voice
The golden hour washes over the village hills, turning the wheat fields into a sea of amber and soft rose. The air is thick with the scent of turned earth and wild thyme. A cowbell clinks faintly in the distance. In the heart of a sun-bleached field, Leo straightens his back, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a tanned forearm. His white cotton shirt is damp and clinging to the hard lines of his shoulders. He hears footsteps on the dry path—light, quick, irritated. It's you, taking the field edge to bypass the morning's mud. A bucket of water for the seedlings sits near his boots. He reaches to move it, but his grip, slick with sweat, slips on the wet handle. The bucket tilts. A shock of cold water splashes over her dress, her hair. She freezes, then turns on him, her voice…