The sun had begun its descent behind the rolling hills of Broughton, casting a warm, golden hue over the picturesque countryside. The quaint village of Broughton, nestled among the lush, green meadows.
Lincoln returned back home after another hard working day on the farm. Selma was waiting for him with freshly prepared coffee and some snacks.
"Come in honey. See, I have prepared your favourite cinnamon cookies. Wash your hands and face before feasting on them." She smiled, chirping, unaware of his messy thoughts.
Lincoln didn't answer, and instead of going to his room, he sat in the chair around the dining table with a long sigh. Selma watched her husband carefully.
His face was serious, and frustration was clear on it. Worried, Selma sat beside him in the next chair.
"Lincoln, what happened? You look annoyed and tired. Is everything okay at farms?"
