She hands me a glass of iced tea and kisses my forehead. The radio crackles: “Sunny and mild, no chance of rain.” Sounds like my wife.

“Thank God for crop insurance!” she says blithely. I offer a half-grin.

I wait ‘til she’s fully inside before kicking the ground. Hard. Clouds of dust choke me. She doesn’t fucking get it.

K: So is wifey naive and sunny to a fault, or is our narrator just a dick who never learned to love her properly? I think it can be both, and their weaknesses (we can call hers something else, if you please) make for an interesting dynamic I’d like to spend more time with. SILVER

MD: I don’t get it, either. My impression is that this guy sees his farm and his wife as the same barren disappointments, strangling his sense of life and hope. That’s kinda how my husband views his wife, too. BRONZE

W: A nice slice of life, but the story seems a little hollow. Can someone say something blithely in a way that also requires an explanation point?

I fall to 6th place in the standings, but am more satisfied in my story this week. I’ve met my character many times. I’ve never been able to identify with the personality of a farmer, but I’m glad I’ve been able to meet many and learn about them.