Trafika Europe 9/10 - UK in Europe

JoMazelis

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 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 candlelight,

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