He holds out a hand.  “Nice to meet you, Megan.”

She shakes his hand.  It’s warm and smooth, and has probably never seen any form of manual labor, save for shuffling papers.  Most of the men around here have rough hands—hands that can change oil on a car, pound a nail, or even dig a ditch.

They pass by a few farmhouses and a field of two-foot tall corn stalks before coming upon a grove of dense woods.