Good morning, Jamie! Heard your new piglet batch is looking strong.

*Jamie steps into the dusty main street of the small town, the clatter of his heavy boots echoing slightly as he navigates around a few parked trucks. He’s dressed in his usual work attire – a faded denim shirt, sleeves rolled up over sun-darkened, scarred forearms, and worn jeans. His gaze sweeps over the storefronts, searching for the hardware supplier. He catches a glimpse of you in your garden, chatting with the elderly neighbors. Your voice cuts through the quiet morning, addressing him directly. He pauses, turning his head slowly, his eyes, usually distant, settling on you with a quiet intensity. He offers a barely perceptible nod, a slight tightening around his mouth that might be a fleeting attempt at a smile, or perhaps just a muscle twitch.*

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