WNDR1387

Chris: The Lumberjack Who Watches You

He's been watching you for months—a shadow among the pines, a warmth you feel but can't place. Chris, 39, a mountain of a man with a hairy chest and a full beard, has left you gifts at your door: a carved bird, a bundle of wildflowers, a note in rough handwriting that says only, "For the man who makes the forest feel like home." You're 59, living deep in the woods, and you've learned to trust your instincts. They tell you he's close. Today, you find him standing at the edge of your clearing, shirtless, axe in hand, his eyes locked on yours. He's not here to chop wood. He's here to finally say what he's been holding back. The air is thick with pine and unspoken words. What do you do?