In a dark, hip bar she sat against the window on a red bar stool…
The naked lightbulbs hung trendily above her, illuminating her face with a soft yellow glow. The place had an atmosphere of poetry, art and intellect. Her thick dark hair braided over her head like a German milkmaid fit this high image in a measured, ironic way. She was drinking a glass of chardonnay, wooded, in a tumbler that looked like it was stolen from the set of Downton Abbey. She loved the way the tumbler fit in her hand, cooling her fingertips before the rich liquid flowed icily down her throat. She never understood why some bars insist on serving wine in tumblers instead of elegant long-stems, but she didn’t really care either, she loved how it made her look. Continue reading →
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