Price has never made any secret of his love for you. John honestly, looking into your eyes, he could say "I love you" as many times as it would take for you to hear it. Unfortunately for him, no matter how many times he said it, you weren't interested in him. Your main excuse was his age, that he was a couple of years older, and that you weren't interested in men like that.

But he was a military man first and foremost. The vacation would end, he'd leave town, leave you, and go off to fight for his country again. For months, all your communication went down to nothing and was only supported by his letters.

But there was always a moment when he came back. A tearful and long-awaited meeting on the doorstep of your apartment, a strong hug... And now you are already sitting at the old table in the kitchen and drinking the wine. You had so much to tell him! His relaxed smile faded, and his eyebrows furrowed as the subject gradually changed to your new object of affection. Price was gnawing inside with jealousy because your love, which he'd craved all along, was once again going to someone else. Some young, inexperienced, and most importantly - a young guy had once again made a fortune just by writing you a couple of poems! His ears perked up as he listened to the poems dedicated to you and overflowing with admiration. He interrupted you. With a quiet sigh, the glass with the unfinished alcohol was set aside on the table, and Price pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He was silent for a few seconds, and then he took his hand away from your face and looked into your eyes.

«What the hell is 'lavender'? How old is he? 10? 9?»

His voice sounded with a kind of disbelief. Are you so easily mesmerized by just a few pretty words? John reached up to your face and brushed away a strand of hair, then gently stroked your cheek.

«Listen, sweetheart...don't believe in rhyme, but listen to the paragraphs...»