He said something, either witty or cutting. She hadn’t heard the words, but could tell because the left corner of his mouth curled up, expecting laughter. All she could do was stare at his lips. Stained purple.

“I guess you had to be there,” he said.

“Where’s this?”

“Never mind,” he said. “What do you think of the wine.”

She noticed she hadn’t touched the glass, so she lifted it and drank a little.

“It’s fine.”


“I don’t drink much. I don’t know.”

Instead of saying anything, he flipped open the menu, dragged his finger down over the prices.

Prompt courtesy of the Daily Post.


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