Jeb browses the aisles of Harvest’s Blockbuster. Section: Historical.

“Bridge on the River Kwai?” he mumbles to himself. “No,” he paces back down the aisle, “something more modern… Gladiator?” Russell Crowe’s shouting face beckons on the DVD box. “Yeah.”

Lost in his own thoughts, Jeb snaps to at the sound of snickering. He looks up to catch two younger women, hands to their mouths to stifle their laughter, turning away from him. They were laughing at him, he knows it. People around Harvest like to talk, and Jeb was tired of finding himself at the butt of most jokes.

Don’t listen to them,” a voice says, imperceptibly whispered over his shoulder. “I’ll always be your friend. Just follow my instructions and everything will work out.

“Right,” Jeb says as he reaches for Russell Crowe.

No. Not that one.” Jeb freezes, awaiting instruction. “Doctor Zhivago.

“We watched that one last week.”

Doctor Zhivago!

Jeb relents. He trusts what his friend has to say.