I sip the mocha. My therapy this rainy Friday. So glad the drops are back. They always enhance the session. But they don’t give me the winemaker’s alchemical prowess. Not even sure I want to make a wine, let alone a Cab. It would have to be a blend. Much like this book. No definite totality. Aiming for astounding aesthetic amalgamation.
Mike revisited his screenplay, for a second, then asked himself, “What in the...am I doing?” But he persisted with his new tasting Room comedy. He even pulled a laugh out of himself. The characters were telling him something.
Kelly, unexpectedly occupied the room. With reservation, concern, she looked over his left shoulder, onto the screen, reading the lines as he’d type. “There,” she said. Subtle vibrations from her solitary syllable pleasurably shocked the back of his ear, the side of his neck. Mike, momentarily without breath.