Artur leaned his hoe against the cart. "Let's rest somewhere cool. This heat's gnawing at my spine."
Billy didn't argue. He simply set his tool aside, brushing the dirt from his palms. "You got a place in mind?"
Artur didn't answer right away. He just started walking. Billy followed without question.
They cut through the narrow path behind the fields, past a cluster of old fences and slanting shadows, until the quiet started to shift.
The breeze softened. The earth smelled cooler.
There, beyond the last slope of grass, the lake appeared—still, silver-edged, and waiting.
A crooked tree stretched beside it, long branches casting gentle shade.
Artur stopped under the tree and pressed a hand to the bark. "Used to come here when I wanted quiet."
Billy stepped beside him. "You still do?"
"Only when the world gets too loud."
Billy looked out over the water. "It's the kind of quiet that doesn't ask questions."
Artur nodded. "Exactly."
