As an eleven-year-old, Palmer liked nothing of his life. His parents decided to move into the countryside for a ‘change of environment’ for his vacation, his name sounds like there was no thought put into it, and he really hated the whole process of travelling. Long car rides included vomiting, discomfort, missing city life, bad breath, his parents arguing, some radio show talking about a scandal about people he’s never heard before and horrible weather.
When they reached their house, he didn’t get to help with moving in the suitcases; he headed straight to bed and knocked himself out for the whole day. It took his parents a lot of convincing and patience to get him to be awake and freshen up and have a few snacks. He was still disheartened; vacations in the countryside only ever left him in musquito bites and various other sicknesses he didn’t realize existed.
Palmer looked up at the ceiling; the light was flickering slightly, and he could see and hear the different type of insects swarming around it. He didn’t know what they were called, other than flies, but he would freak out every time he saw them back in his old house. He ate his sandwich with his heart hammering; he didn’t want to be there anymore.
He knew that his parents were in a bad mood already, so he didn’t dare complain again. He went up in his room, took out his comic books and started reading them, trying to convince himself that the countryside isn’t that bad.

Somehow, he fell asleep again, only to wake up with somehting fluttering against his eyelid. An annoying buzz sound pierced through his ears, and he slapped his eye instinctively. His face paled as the realization sunk in.
The next thing his parents knew, there were screams of absolute terror from their son’s room upstairs.
“Maybe you should go outside,” his mother suggested, after Palmer had calmed down and ate a quarter of his breakfast. “You can help me gift the mangoes to our neighbors? Just the houses next to ours.”
Palmer refused. He’d seen the neighbors’ kids interact with his father and laugh in their native language. Some were about his age, and some were older. There was no way he wanted to play with them, especially not in this baking sunlight.
“You don’t have to talk to the kids then,” his mother tried again. “Just give their parents these mangoes and come back. Be polite, of course.”
Palmer wasn’t dumb- he knew how to be polite. He took the two baskets and headed outside.
Immediately, the direct sunlight smacked him across the eyes, the intensity almost making him drop the basket. Sweat began to form at his temples, and he could feel the back of his shirt already sticking onto him. He didn’t understand the concept of being ‘neighbors’ if they were so far away from them.
By the time he reached the house, one of his sandals had given out- the band had torn. “Great,” he mumbled to himself, trying to walk like a normal person. “Just great.”
After he gave one of the baskets, he decided to head back home- there was no possible way he could walk another mile with a torn sandal. While on his way back, he came across an old cobbler sitting near a well, under a shade and surrounded by shoes and its soles.
How fortunate! Palmer celebrated silently as he awkwardly walked his way towards the old man. “Good morning… can you fix my sandal? Wait no… how much is it?”
The old man looked up at him and smiled. “Come in the shade, boy. I admire your politeness. Nowadays kids just cuss all the time.”
“Right…”
“Son of the Everetts?”
“Um… yeah, how did you know?”
“Oh, your father’s quite a man here, you know. Splendid fellow. For you, my boy, no charge. Give me your sandal.”
As much as he appreciated the offer, it didn’t sit right with him. Then again, he didn’t bring any money with him- he obviously didn’t realize that one of his sandals would die on him. He looked at his bare foot and then at the basket of mangoes that he didn’t give. “You can take these as payment! We were supposed to give it to someone else but I’m this close to passing out due to the sunlight.”
The old man laughed- such an old man like laugh, Palmer thought to himself- as he fixed the sandal. Meanwhile, Palmer stood there with his bare foot over his other, talking to the old man about his opinions on countryside. By the time he decided to leave, there was a certain breeze that cooled his temples and his back.
It wasn’t until nighttime fell that he realized how much he’d chattered obnoxiously about his negative opinions on the countryside. Though the old man just listened and nodded and complimented him, it was still embarassing.

The next day, the old man was at his usual spot, fixing shoes, when he heard footsteps approaching him. It was Palmer, holding a colorful book. Sunlight illuminated his round face and brown hair; sweat beads formed at the either side of his face. There were several colorful bandages decorated around his calves.
“Can I sit next to you… sir?” Palmer asked, holding the book tighter. “I want to talk about…some stuff.”
The old man blinked, unaware that Palmer was quite regretful. “Yeah, yeah. My name’s Bernard, by the way. You can call me Bernie.”
“Uh, no thanks Mr.… Bernard.”
For someone who had a lot of opinions about the countryside, this boy sure was a slow talker.
With that, Palmer sat down next to him and tried to explain himself to Bernard about why his opinions were his opinions. He didn’t really care much; he just let the kid talk about whatever he wanted. Once he was done explaining himself, Bernard questioned him about the comic book he had been holding.
“This?” Palmer’s face brightened up. “Only the best superhero comic ever! It’s, like, the perfect blend of science-fiction and mystery and…”
Bernard was very surprised by the sudden glow-up expression and talking pace, but this superhero story was quite interesting. Such a passionate little boy, he thought. He encouraged him to tell more, which almost sent Palmer over the moon.
Days would pass with Palmer always rushing to Bernard to talk about his superhero comic series. There were days he’d come crying because of his parents, or his new environment and there were days he would hesitantly and ask him whether he was boring him and whether he should leave.