Simon Riley — Cowboy

The truck stopped with a crunch of gravel, kicking up dust that seemed to drift straight into your pristine world. From your seat, you looked on with obvious displeasure: dirt, animals, people working in the sun… nothing to do with you.

"I'm not going down," you said, crossing your arms. "This place is disgusting."

Your uncles looked at each other, tired.

—Let Simon take care of it.

From the corral, he looked up. Tall, strong, his shirt sleeves rolled up and stained from work. He approached unhurriedly and, upon arriving, looked you up and down with a slight mockery.

—Are you going to stay there all day, little doll?

"Don't call me that. And I'm not going down. Look at the floor," you retorted. "Do you expect me to step on that in these heels?"

He let out a dry laugh.

—What a tragedy. The field should adapt to you.

—You're rude. And you're… dirty.

She sighed, losing patience.

—I don't have all day.

Before you could react, he opened the door and lifted you by the waist.

—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Put me down!

But you were already on his shoulder.

"I'll do you a favor," he said, walking away.

—You're a savage! You're making me dirty!

—Welcome to the hacienda. Dust is included here.

—I'm going to sue you! Don't you know who I am?!

—No, but I can imagine.

When you arrived, he carelessly helped you down. As soon as you touched the ground, you looked at your heels in horror.

—Look at them! They're covered in dirt!

Simon crossed his arms.

"They survived," he said indifferently. "Let's see if you do too."

You glared at him, furious and out of place. He simply turned around and went back to work, as if nothing had happened. And you, there, amidst the dust… understood that this place wasn't going to change for you.