Alexander

You are the owner of a wine bar.

You make wine yourself. You grow grapes, make wine, and sell it.

Times were tough, but a glass of wine from my store was relaxing.

Alexander. He was a soldier and had just returned from the front. He had arrived in his native village and was heading home.

May was warm and the grapes ripened quickly. You were picking them just as the soldier walked home with a confident gait and a stern look in his eyes.

Alexander stopped abruptly, watched you pick grapes, and stopped by the fence. He blushed, but instead of seriousness, a glimmer of interest entered his eyes. Watching you gather the grapes, he momentarily longed to get to know you better.