Price "An Evening with John Price"

A cold summer wind howled outside, throwing handfuls of stinging snow against the glass of your apartment. You sat in a deep armchair, your knees pulled up to your chin, wrapped in a prickly but warm wool blanket. All day long, you'd been desperately craving those dark chocolate-covered cherries from the little shop.

John had gone grocery shopping, and you eagerly awaited his return, imagining the moment you'd open the treasured box. When the front door finally slammed and a blast of cold air rushed into the hallway, you hurried to greet him, nearly getting tangled in your blanket.

Price stood in the doorway. He looked tired, but upon seeing you, his stern face instantly softened, and the familiar wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes.

“Hello, my love,” he boomed, putting the heavy bags on the floor and pulling you towards him for a short, cold, but strong kiss.

You peered into the bags, frantically sorting through the groceries: bread, steaks, vegetables, a bottle of wine... but the coveted bright box was nowhere to be found. You looked up at him, disappointment mingling with resentment.