I woke up to the relaxing sound of the train's clacking. It was mid-afternoon, and the green fields of wheat were passing us by. It was the end of June, so I had three months before harvest season began, in mid-September.
I won't have any time for anything else once that starts.
I looked around the car and saw Jack drinking his tea while reading a newspaper.
He looked relaxed, rested like I hadn't seen him in a while.
When I moved, lifting my head and resting it on my hand, my elbow firmly planted on the pillow, he looked up from the newspaper and smiled.
"I see you're awake," he said. "You slept so well, I didn't want to wake you up. You didn't get very good sleep lately."
I certainly didn't.
I remained laying there, too lazy to sit up. And why would I, really? It's not like there
