Dammit, you're making me cry again. (It's okay. I don't mind.)

He wrestles Rodney into his coat, coaxes him outside, striding off across the fields that John loved as a child and hated as a teenager.

I think this is the curse of anyone who grows up in the country (which I did, Siria! Really!): you love it, then you hate it, then you move away and miss it for the rest of your life.

I love this story, every piece.