Tiffany stood at the edge of the field and watched Devin baling hay. He looked as if he’d done it forever. He sat just slightly sideways in the seat, often casting an eye back to make sure everything was in order. Every twenty seconds, the baler lofted a fifty-pound cube of hay high into the air where it tumbled into the cart being towed behind. Everything was as it should be, except the madness in her head.
Three years ago she had learned to enjoy the long walks to town as a time of peace and quiet in her day. For the first time, she had been in such a hurry to find Devin that she had come down the back logging road from her property, cutting the four-mile walk to two, and still she was a little breathless from how fast she’d traveled.
But watching Devin, suddenly her world was at peace
