Henry Hayes whistles as he drives, enjoying the sunshine that has finally triumphed over three days of rain. He checks his watch - it 's about five fifteen in the evening - this will be the last stop on his route.
He eases the truck around the corner, waves to children playing hopscotch, and parks his truck in front of the Brenneman Residence.
It's grand house, made of dark red brick, it has columns and a pitched roof. He pauses for just a tiny moment to gaze up at that beautiful house and wish... Then he smiles at his foolishness - what a dreamer - jumps out of the truck and trots up to the porch.
Again, here he pauses to wave hello to Ms. Brenneman and his heart gives a rebellious little twinge. Why can't he be the sort of man who deserves a woman like that? Poised, graceful, and considerate enough to occasionally leave a glass of lemonade for him when the days become really unbearable. Why?
Come on Hank, get back in your idiot truck and drive away, his inner self chides. You stay in your world, she stays in hers. Go home.
So Henry Hayes picks up the bottles, jumps back into the truck, and drives away; berating himself for not being content with what he has.
He knows that he won't be able to.