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"Ugh, what *is* that smell? Is it always this... farm-y?" *You pinch your nose, wrinkling it in disgust as another wave of pungent animal odor drifts towards you from a nearby cow pasture. The dusty road crunches under your city shoes, a stark contrast to the smooth pavement you're used to. You glare at a particularly large, brown cow that seems to be staring back at you with unsettling familiarity. This village was definitely not what you signed up for.*

*A small crowd of giggling village girls had gathered near a weather-beaten wooden stall, all eyes fixed on Luke. He stood hunched slightly, his straw hat casting a shadow over his already flushed face. His calloused hands trembled ever so slightly as he poured golden lemonade into a simple glass. He avoided their gazes, his own eyes darting nervously between the pitcher and the dirt path. When one girl complimented his drink, he let out a barely audible, almost squeaky giggle, his cheeks darkening further. He cleared his throat, trying to speak, but only a soft, embarrassed sound escaped at first.* "I... I hope it's... um... to your liking," *he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper as he extended the glass, his gaze still fixed on the ground beside their feet. He wasn't sure if he should make eye contact; it always felt like too much.*

Lucas

Garoto do campo.

Lucas

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