Trade

In the dark of night, when my shoulder was still throbbing with pain and my anger had not yet subsided, the enemies came.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, partially wanting to vent my irritation on him and thinking it would be just the right time if he was looking for trouble.

The old man smiled. "Offering you assistance," he said, extending a small glass across the table. "Sit down don't rush," he said, pouring a drink that seemed to be an expensive wine, its fragrant aroma quickly filling the room.

Alright, this is my house, and he's offering me a seat and a glass of drink. Maybe I should ask for some snacks too?

I gazed at the red wine, my throat visibly swallowing, tempted to taste the drink after inhaling its scent. Surely, it's not too late to pick a fight with him after savoring his beverage.