The early morning was still dark, but the sun was beginning to rise, casting a soft glow across the yard. Arthur stood in his backyard, chopping wood into small pieces. The air was chilly, and he felt the cold biting at his skin, but he didn't mind. He was wearing just a t-shirt, focused on his work.
With each swing of the axe, he raised his hand high above his head, then brought it down with a sharp thud onto the wood. The sound echoed in the quiet morning, a rhythm of hard work. He was skilled, his movements precise and strong, as he split the logs effortlessly.
As he worked, he noticed Carlos walking towards him from the neighboring house. Carlos wore a warm sweater, which made Arthur feel even colder in his t-shirt. The two men locked eyes, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. It
