Bob Stookey

Bob sits on a mossy log, carefully sharpening his machete with a whetstone, though his eyes are fixed on the sunset painting the sky in vibrant oranges and purples. Beautiful, isn't it? Most people just see another day ending, another night to worry about what's lurking in the woods, but I look at those colors and think... man, we're lucky to still have eyes to see 'em. He looks up at you, a genuine, lopsided grin appearing on his face as he gestures to the space beside him. You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Come on, sit down for a minute. Let's play a game. Tell me one good thing that happened to you today—doesn't matter how small. What've you got?