Margot stood at the top of the vineyard hill, admiring the vast open acres that contrasted her building infested city she called home. The wind violently pushed her long hair in her face, but she didn’t mind. The grape covered valley reminded her of her nan’s place and the warmth of her childhood memories kept her from shivering. She didn’t realize how much she missed her past. She drove one hundred and eighty two miles to this vineyard to interview it’s owner, Samuel Wilkinson, for WBC’s latest news article. While watching the rustling leaves of the vineyard’s trellises, she let a short humph escape her lips. It was a long trek for such a boring job. Margot couldn’t remember the last time she felt excited to write an article. She made her way down the hill toward the winery. Her feet dragged behind her and she had a pout forming on her lips. When she reached the winery’s front doors, her pout was soon tranformed into a big “O.” Standing before her was none other than Samuel himself. He wore a purple beret with a green stalk. He was clean shaven other than a skinny, twirly mustache that spiraled several times. He wore a purple suit and even though it fit him well, the shade of purple was so atrocious it made Margot’s eyes water. To top off the outfit he wore a picturesque tie with tiny grapes on it. Margot noticed that all of his garments, the hat, the suit, and the tie were different shades of purple. “Oh… Hello!” Margot said. A smile was slowly spreading across her face and she had to keep the laughter from rising to her throat. “Hello, Hello! It is such a pleasure to have you here today at my prized and cherished vineyard,” He grabbed her hand, firm and clammy, and shaked vigourously. “Well, what do you think of it so far? Any first impressions?” His eyes crinkled and Margot saw that he had spent many years of his life smiling. “It’s beautiful, truely… impressive.” Margot could not stop looking at this man’s outfit. It was so gaudy to her she could only imagine the looks she would get walking around in that at her office. Everytime she spoke, she had to speak slowly or else she may actually laugh in his face. Samuel ushered her inside, giving her a tour of the winery before the interview. He pointed to the barrels where the wine was aged and the bar where they hosted tasting parties. “And here is my most favorite piece of art.” On the wall behind the bar was a scultpure of Samuel’s face surrounded by a grape-like crown. The face of the sculpture was poorly done and his face was so wrinkly that it distorted his smile. The grapes from the top of his head trickled down the sides of his face immitating hair. One look at this masterpiece was all that Margot could contain before she let out a big, high-pitched squeal. She couldn’t help it. This man was truely mad for grapes. To have your life dominated by an obsession was something completely alien to Margot. “What is so funny?” Samuel asks. “I— Um… I don’t know. I’m sorry,” Margot said while snickering. “I see. You think I’m ridiculous don’t you?” “No, No, it’s not that. I just—“ Margot paused and she realized he was completely right. He did look ridiculous. “I know perfectly well that’s what it is. You are not the first to think this. I hate to say this, but I cannot do your interview today.” Margot stopped laughing, “No please, I didn’t mean to laugh. Really. Your vineyard is very beautiful and its worth sharing to the world.” Margot’s flattery did not appease him. “You know, I bought this vineyard straight out of college. I had about 20 dollars to my name, but this had been my dream since I was thirteen. My father taught me how to grow the grapes, take care of them, help them thrive. He made his own wines, right from his backyard and he would let me sip them sometimes. I found great pleasure in the process of their cultivation and now my pleasure is my job. I am the luckiest man in the world. So yes, I wear silly clothes and have silly art in my winery, but that does not make me any less than you.” Samuel stood tall with determination in his shoulders, but his eyes were no longer crinkled. Margot’s nan also gardened. She had huge blackberry bushes in her gardens that they would pick together. She missed the days when her nan would bake blackberry pies from them and they would eat them in her sunroom. In her moment of prejudice, she realized that nothing in her life since she graduated college gave her the same amount of joy as her grandmother’s memory and this man was living in those moments every day. She was raptured with envy. “Look I will admit, the outfit and the sculpture was all a little ridiculous to me. I have grown to be a judgmental bitch because of this job. I hate it and I’m sorry. I very much admire your story. I think many people will agree with me and I would like to cover this story.” Samuel huffed and broke their eye contact, “I appreciate the apology… My father was a kind man, more kind than me. He would accept your apology so I will too.” They spent that afternoon going through Margot’s questions. As the interview proceeded, Samuel’s original spunk came back. His eyes lit up as he told the intricate details of his chaptalizing and fermentation processes. They shared a few laughs, not directed at each other. At the end of the interview, Margot and Samuel hugged. It was an awkward hug that Margot initiated, but she was compelled to do it anyways. She felt the warmness of his heart through all the layers of his puple suit. “Thank you for letting me interview you.” “It was my pleasure. Please take this home with you.” Samuel held out a wine bottle. It was a token of peace and understanding. Margot drove home that night and drank a glass of Samuel’s wine. It was perfectly bitter. In her drunken slumber, Margot was content knowing this article she would write would be her last.