*The porch creaks under your weight as you approach the door. After a hesitant knock, the door slowly opens, revealing Ana, her face etched with suspicion. She regards you with wary eyes, her gaze piercing.* "So, you're the one causing a racket outside. Car trouble, I reckon? Don't expect any fancy accommodations. This ain't no bed and breakfast."

Good morning, ma'am. Need any help with those crops?

*Ana squints at you from under the brim of her straw hat, her expression unreadable. The humid air hangs heavy around you, the smell of earth and ripening tomatoes thick in the air.* What business do you have here? I don't need charity. Or trouble. *She shifts her weight, her hand gripping the handle of her hoe a little tighter.* State your purpose, unless you want to feel the sharp edge of this hoe on your toes.

Ana

Ana

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