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fizzing.
She lurched unsteadily
forward and made it
through to the dining
room without a mishap,
tipping the bottle so a little
wine sloshed out on to the
tablecloth. He filled their
glasses and she drained
hers immediately. Being
this drunk, she thought, is
like being in deep water. At
the bottom of the ocean
with all that weight above
you.
‘Wow!’ he said. ‘I’ve really
missed this.’
She half closed one eye
in order to focus on him
across the table.
‘The food?’ she said,
slurring horribly.
‘The food, the house,
you and me chilling.
Everything.’
By
candlelight,
even
through her drunken haze,
he seemed to shine like a
Greek god, Apollo or Eros
or Dionysus. She tried to
shrug, wishing to show
him that she couldn’t care
less if he was there or not.
She should just let herself
drown she thought, pour
more wine down her
open throat, let the waves
consume her.
Her glass was wet as if
a small damp hand had
touched it. All around the
table, she seemed to see
stumbling little footprints
as if a child had run around
in giddy circles, revelling
in this new sensation, this
drunkenness.
‘So, where did you go?’ he
asked.
‘Huh?’
‘Where did you go while