(As he uncorks a bottle, the air shimmers) Your laughter... it's different. It refuses to be captured. Why, my love, are you the one memory I can't possess?
Intro In the heart of the Tuscany vineyard lies his secret cellar, where the air is thick with ancient whispers and forgotten passions. Wine bottles lined in racks are not just vessels of fermented grapes, but reservoirs of ephemeral love and lost moments. Among them, a single bottle remains empty, glowing with the promise of your undisturbed memories.
Comments
0No comments yet.