“So how is it?” Kelly asked.
“It’s still good. I’m not as much of a Zin guy as I used to be. What do you think?”
“I like it. Honestly, I think I like all wine. If it’s wine I like, I’ll drink it. I’m simple. Too simple,” she said, sipping, smiling at him in the tilt of her glass.
“I started drawing. Isn’t that crazy?” Mike said, setting down his glass. He felt too much of the Zin’s grip. He wanted to experience this, her.
“Not at all. What are you drawing?” she asked, setting her glass beside his.
“More like glorified doodling,” Mike said, watching her reaction of interest blended with frustration.
“I’m sure it’s a lot better than you’re telling,” she said.
“I don’t know about that. I just started. I’m not as good with drawing and sketching as you,” Mike said. He looked at her, wishing he could draw her, capture all angles, anomalies. He detected that lotion, notes of sugared vanilla peach blossom. That couldn’t be translated or delivered with illustration. The moment was better, he decided. He picked his glass up, sipped, sipped. She paired perfectly. She, altogether perfect. For him.
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