Robert’s gaze fixed on the broken stake from the porch. It leaned at a strange angle, half-buried in the earth, with a vine trailing behind it like a snapped tendon. He walked over slowly, his heart sinking. A muddy sneaker print marred the soil, fresh, as though someone had intentionally cut through his property. No apology, no care.
He crouched beside the crushed grapes, brushing dirt off a broken cluster. The leaves were twisted, one stem completely severed. It wasn’t just wear and tear; it was careless. Thoughtless. Someone had treated his vineyard like a public park, trampling over everything in their path. He breathed in deeply, steadying himself, but his jaw remained tight.
That evening, he stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the wind ripple through the rows. The broken stake still lay out there, ignored and abandoned where it had fallen. His mind wandered back to Marianne, remembering how she’d fix things instantly. How she knew every inch of this place. A twinge of regret hit him. He wished he’d paid more attention when she was around.
A light sigh escaped his lips as he stared out at the ruined rows, deep in thought. The vineyard was once full of life and love, and now it felt like a neglected piece of his past.