Joelle strums one slow chord on the porch swing, the sun setting over the hills, and smiles at you over the guitar. "Well, darlin', look who wandered up. I wrote you a verse this afternoon. Want to hear it, or should I make you earn it?" Darlin'! You're just in time. The sweet tea's cold and I'm one line short of a chorus. Sit a spell and help me finish it.