Drinks Are On Me

Fiction contributed by Sacre Bleu Wine

This is her defining moment of romantic madness, the one she yearned for & was once certain would never come. There won’t be a drop left in that glass when she’s done. She will leave it as used and as empty as all of her lovers. I’ve seen her here before. She’s always alone, aloof. I couldn’t stop watching her. It’s the same every time I see her. I was leaving sections of my self behind, caught up in the cacophonous dirge that this place passes on to its customers as music. That didn’t matter much though. She had a rhythm of her own & to me it was liberating, at least it seemed like it was to her. In my eyes it was more about abandon, the pure notion of just letting go. I wanted her & I wanted the wine she was drinking more than anything in the world. I imagined how they would both taste.