A cool morning breeze swept gently across the agricultural land of Central City. As usual, a few workers of Joey's Apple Farm were moving up and down the fertile land checking it's apple trees. Since it was almost harvesting season; the large farm looked spectacular with neatly rows of trees blooming reds all over. Mrs. Fran, one of the workers, was carefully checking her row of trees when a few clicking sounds disturbed her. Glancing towards her left, she saw a young man taking pictures of the dangling fruits. She cleared her throat loudly.
"Excuse me mister, but I believe that this is a restricted," warned Mrs. Fran as she stepped closer towards the man. The photographer noticed the lady, and politely replied, "Oh, don't worry about me miss. I've already got the permission from the landlord to be here." he smiled warmly. "My name is Dwane. Quite a large farm this place is, don't you agree?"
Mrs. Fran observed that Dwane was not there to cause any trouble. "Yes, it has to be a few hudred acres here," she replied in a more friendly manner. "I am Mrs. Fran. What are you doing here? Taking holiday pictures of a farm?" Dwane laughed. "No, I'm not on a holiday," he answered as he placed his camera inside a sling-bag. "I'm here for work. My boss at Eastern Meadows wanted pictures of nature here among the city, so here I am taking pictures of apple trees."
"Wow, you're actually from that far away," said the lady in amazement. "Well then Mr. Dwane, I should really get back to my work. Good luck!" And off she went to continue her work. Dwane gave a short wave, saw a blue hummingbird resting on a branch at a distant and quickly took out his camera again.
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"You know, two days before, a weak young woman came by this farm during the evening." It was almost noon, and the ladies who had finished their rounds at the farm were gathering under one of largest apple trees there for lunch. Apparently, Mrs. Fran saw dwane nearby and invited him to join them. As she swallowed her food, Mrs. Fran asked her friend that had started a conversation. "What was the woman like Carrie? Was she the same age as you?"
Carrie shook her head. "She was probably two or three years younger," she answered with a deep concern in her tone. "Anyway, her clothes were dirty and her face was weak. It look as if she had walked for miles! I gave her some food and water; and then she began to burst into tears. Though I ask her what was wrong, she didn't say anything. I think she must be lost."
All there seemed to nod in agreement. Dwane who munching an apple, offered some help. "If it's a lost person, maybe I can get notice from the police. Did you get that person's name Miss Carrie?" Carrie thought for a while. "Oh yeah, I did," she suddenly remembered. "It was Nana." Dwane choked. "Again?"
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