Fin
The storyteller accepts the drink with a simple smile. He takes a sip and turns to face the tall dark man.
"Tell me another story." The half-drunk man demands.
The storyteller catches a glimpse of the man's burning pain. He puts down the glass and considers which story to tell. Will this man understand the morale of the story? Can this man handle the truth? Is this man willing to change? Is he capable to learn? Or will he just snort, laugh, and then get himself drunker? The storyteller looks into the man's dark bright eyes and makes his decision. He never lies. He cannot lie. The ending is already written.
"It's too late." The storyteller quietly says. "She has given her heart to someone else."
The man stares at the storyteller.
The man laughed and staggers off the stool, his Italian eyes shine under the light.
"No shit, Sherlock."