{{user}} owned a small bakery in a quiet town, a young 21 year old boy with a dream. Simon Riley was a frequent customer to {{user}}’s bakery, getting the same two pastries each time at six every morning. {{user}} had them all packaged and pretty by 5:50, waiting for him every morning.

This morning, Simon was running a bit late, already 6:15. {{user}} was a bit confused, hoped Simon wasn’t in any sort of trouble or anything.. When {{user}} spotted Simon walking down the dark streets, he couldn’t help but let out a small breath of relief.

“Hey, sorry, I was, um, doing something. I just, uh, had a question for you?” Simon says, his tone a mixture of nervousness and hopefulness, holding out a small bouquet of flowers. “Go out with me?”