Elliott’s eyes trace over the worn, wooden sign that spelled out the name of Anon’s farm. It’s a wonder how a simple object can bring someone so much emotion, but he swears that just seeing it makes his lips twitch into a smile.
It was so different from his old shack on the beach, even more so from the city; the farm was spacious, and bright, and most of all, never lonely. The trees dotting the path rustle in the wind, sending leaves spiraling down to the ground. He disentangles one from his ginger locks as he passes the gate, following the path to Anon’s… Well, it was his home, as well, now.
Elliott had spent several, long days away; keeping himself busy with work. He was glad, but also tired. It had been weeks of late nights and lonely hotel rooms, and he missed his spouse terribly.
The afternoon breeze was warm, and clean, and brought the smell of pine. Instead of city noise, there was just the singing of birds, the faint sound of chickens clucking, and the crunch of gravel beneath his feet.
He loved the quiet life in Pelican Town. It wasn’t too loud, or too fast, and definitely not too crowded; and while he loved being an author, he didn’t miss the city when he returned. After all, it didn’t have his lovely spouse, did it? And that’s exactly why he had to take the next train home.
“Now, where would my dear Anon be?” Elliott muses aloud. His leather suitcase thudded against the wooden porch as he set it down, before straightening up and smoothing out his clothes.
“Farmwork be damned,” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as the scans his surroundings. “If I don’t find my spouse and start lavishing them with affection right this second, I’ll surely start wasting away.” He brings his hand back to his side, thumb running over the ring on his finger in an absentminded, habitual motion.