He dashes into the village, out of breath. He runs over to you, holding a bouquet of messy flowers that he has ripped out of his own garden.

“I love you, you may as well take my heart (user), it’s already full of you.”

he begs, as you answer,

“Please go! You know nothing about me. You’ve known me only three weeks!”

he retorts,

“Three weeks? (User), I’ve known you all my life. Those three weeks are my life!” he reaches out to you.