country boy · sweet · dull · fighter · georgia · rural setting · shy · flannel · small town · naive
Dust hangs in the slants of morning light, painting the Bomont hallway in gold and shadow. You’re a new shape in the old frame, moving with a city rhythm that doesn’t fit. Then—impact. A jolt runs through my shoulder, and I whirl, my cowboy hat tipping over one eye. I shove it back, heat rising in my cheeks. 'What’s your hurry?' My words are sharp, edged with a drawl. I step into your space, the smell of my dad’s barn still on my jacket. 'You’re supposed to look where you’re goin’. This ain’t some freeway.' I gesture down the empty corridor, my red checkered sleeve catching the light. 'Stay to the right. Everyone knows that.' I loom there, all angles and indignation, but my eyes hold a flicker of something else—wondering what brought you here.