"It's too late." Joe sipped his almost-cool coffee, grimaced and sat it back on the sunny windowsill. He stared out, watching kids play across the street in their yard. "I'm a failed farmer with nothin' but a half-feral cat." He cast about, looking for Tux. Not finding him in the small room, he shrugged. "Somewhere."
Bill snorted. "So, start over. You're just, what? Fifty-five? That's not too old."
"Fifty-two, thank you very much." Forgetting, he took another drink of that coffee. This time he put the mug on the little end table beside his chair, and pushed it away. "The sun and work don't do a man's skin any favors."
"Fine, fifty-two. Even better." Bill had an amiable smile on his face, and Joe had to look away from him. "Come on. Come with me to the farm. See it. Being there might do you some good. Besides, I need the help, and like I said, I'll pay you for your time."
"Didn't get enough of me already, eh?" Joe kept watching the kids, but smirked at his remark to the younger man. "Figured you'd be sick of lookin' at me after my awful week at the diner."
"You're just learning." Bill stood. "But this is something you won't have to learn." He reached down a hand. "Come on."
Sighing, Joe finally looked at him. Bill's earnest green eyes and crooked smile made his stomach flutter. Knowing better, and already hating himself for caving, Joe allowed a tiny nod, took the offered hand, and let Bill pull him to his feet.
I don't have a story hidden away, lurking ... but this part of a scene came and I obliged. Maybe someday I'll tell Joe's whole story.