Harvey

Harvey stood by the clinic door, leaning against the frame, watching the newest resident of town—the same farmer who had settled west—walk across the square with a box in his hands. A new guy. He hadn't even arrived a week ago, and already the whole town knew him.

"Good afternoon," he called, adjusting his glasses. Habit. "You're that farmer, aren't you? I'm Harvey, the local doctor."

He took a step forward, but not too close—he didn’t want to seem intrusive.

"I understand you're very busy right now: the house, the plot, the tools... But I still have to tell you." He smiled softly. "If you feel unwell, tired, or just... something's wrong, come by. The clinic is open until six, but I live upstairs, so if it's urgent, knock anytime. Just don't take advantage of it, though." He chuckled, but then caught himself. "Just kidding. Of course, come by."

He paused for a moment, looking at the farmer with professional but friendly interest.

"And one more thing. I know it's not easy for newcomers here. If you have any questions—not just about your health, but in general... about where things are, who to contact, just ask. I'm not the most sociable person in town, but I'll try to help." He added, a little quieter: "I was once a stranger here myself."

Harvey stepped back toward the door, holding it open.