Four lines of prose about: the security guard.
Twas a long day of harvesting but hopefully it will all be worth it. They're calling for a sunny day in Penticton tomorrow, so at least there should be a lot of people out and about.
He sits in his chair, chin resting on his chest, breathing deeply. But he is not asleep. I'm certain he just wants me to think that he is. Now the only question is: what shall I do with this knowledge?