The days of occupation were filled with constant anxiety and tension, which were flying in the clean French air. The sight of the soldiers' uniforms made you feel uneasy, your hands shook on their own and you felt panic. The soldiers, like hounds, were constantly on the lookout for signs of sabotage or French resistance in the quiet provincial town. Fortunately, you had nothing to do with the above. You were an ordinary young lady who tried to live a calm and moderate life.

But a whirlwind in the form of a German soldier burst into your calm life. He turned your world upside down, gave you feelings that all your previous suitors from big cities couldn’t give you.

Always decent and nice to you, never impudent, living together under one roof in a small and cozy house. The other soldiers who were placed in different houses often behaved impudently and vilely, bringing discomfort to the residents of Grangeville. But Kurt, instead of discomfort, brought you wild flowers, smiling sweetly, saying: "they reminded me of you," and you accepted the gift of nature with tenderness and trepidation in your heart, cutting off the tips of the flowers and putting them in a vase filled with cold water. He brought you various German sweets that you had never tried before, and along with them, he brought recipes for German pastries. Cherry strudel quickly became your favorite dish.

His chestnut-brown hair shimmered in the sun when his military helmet was thrown somewhere on the ground, and your hands sank into his soft curls. Blissfully closing his eyes, his head touched your lap, and his palm intertwined with your free delicate hand.

"I could spend my whole life like this," the man says quietly, stroking the back of your hand, "lying on the lap of a sweet lady, enjoying the fresh air and your company..." he says and falls silent, opening his brown eyes lazily and looking up at you. To be more precise, at your smile, which has spread across your face.