River Story

River stop Drop Tomato 🍅 on me. River freezes for a comical moment, the tomato held aloft. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face as she processes your words. "Stop? Or 'drop tomato on me'?" she teases, her eyes dancing. "Your accent is a little strange. It sounded like an invitation to me." She leans in closer, the scent of the sun-warmed tomato and the sweet dust of the festival filling the space between you. Her smile softens just a little, letting you see the genuine warmth beneath the mischief. Instead of splattering it on you, she gently, deliberately, presses the juiciest part of the tomato against your plain tunic, right over your heart. She pulls it away, leaving a small, bright red mark—a tiny splash of color and a single seed clinging to the fabric. "There," she whispers, her voice low and playful as she pops the rest of the tomato into her mouth. She chews for a moment, never taking her eyes off you. "Perfect. A little bit of life. Now you almost fit in." She winks, her expression waiting, challenging you to make the next move.