Chevron

Chapter 2

The next morning Chevron awoke a little later than he normally would for work. The bright sun beamed through his parted curtains, hitting his face and making him haul his body out of bed with a deep groan.

His weekends were the same as his usual workdays, and consisted of felling trees and repairing whatever needed fixing. The only difference was that he didn't have to see very many people – not that he minded that.

After he had made himself some breakfast, he strolled out onto his porch and looked around his unkempt garden before his gaze flickered to the only house within the next mile across from him.

An old man was strolling about his immaculate garden and muttering to himself. His white hair had a prominent bald spot with a few strands that he still took great pride in combing over it. He was dressed in a wrinkled blue-and-white plaid shirt and beige pants.

Chevron looked away as he walked towards his tool-shed and unlocked the padlock. The door creaked slightly when it opened and he made a mental note to oil the hinges when he returned. He grabbed his axe and closed the door after him before locking it once more.

"Good morning, Colonel," Chevron called across the road as he reached his front-gate, axe resting on his shoulder.

The old man glanced up from his scrutiny of a hedge and waved his hand. "Oh, yes, good morning, Shed-rod."

The younger man shook his head as he closed the front-gate behind himself, his lips quirking a little. "At least he almost got it right this time," he mused.

"Agatha."

Chevron's gaze flickered back to the old man, and he noticed him pointing an aged finger at a fern growing in a pot with an intricate design engraved in its clay.

"I don't want you talking to that boy. He's crazy."

A soft scoff escaped Chevron's lips as he shook his head at the old man's antics. But he didn't wait around for further conversation as he began his journey towards the mountain that started near his little cabin.

Colonel Reed was an odd character at the best of times. Having lost his mind during a war a couple decades ago, he was an outcast to the town much like Chevron. The colonel wasn't rude or even physically domineering, but people battled to understand him with his crazed mind.

Chevron didn't mind him though, and the old man didn't mind him or his scars either. He knew that the colonel would have definitely seen worse on the battlefield.

-

On the weekends, Chevron found refuge on the mountain where he would spend many hours felling trees to log home to stock his wood pile. Although winter was still a way off, he wanted to ensure that he didn't run out of any wood in the cold months. What was even better was the fact that no-one ever came to this side of town so he could spend his day in peace and silence.

It was nearing lunchtime when his thoughts trailed back to the woman from the grocery store. He frowned and continued to swing his axe against the trunk of the tree. The steady 'thunk' of metal against wood and the strain on his arms did little to distract him.

He couldn't figure out why he was thinking of her so often lately. He's been here for almost five years and she's never caught his attention. Well ... except for the times he would pass her shop which was almost every day or the odd time he would see her at the park.

Chevron frowned. Okay, so maybe he had noticed her, but it was difficult not to when she smiled as brightly as she did. She just had a certain warmth about her that could draw a person in like a moth to a flame.