We set there, alone at both ends of an aged oaken table that acted as a divider; though, that was not our intent. Dust covered the old photo album of happiness past, which lay sleepily on its' surface. I eyed it. Her eyes, however, looked toward the future, at the radiant bottle of wine standing tall, beside a scented candle on the table between us. Her eyes admired the nectar within the delicate shape of the scarlet glass as an adulterer might yearn for a potential affair.

A long moment had passed, during which she satisfied her desiring sense; she finally reached for it, weakly intent on satisfying some other senses as well. Dulling the inevitable feeling of guilt that would drip from her tongue like poison. Her hands clasped tightly around the bottle's warm surface; she was shaking. There was tension; the white knuckles gave that away. Once the cork was removed and the contents breathing, she began to pour her facade into the glass. With haste, the wine touched her lips like a lover's goodbye kiss. The Cabernet ran down her fervent throat quickly. Without a word, she poured another, and then another…Taste would come later. The heavy red fumes drifted over to tantalize even my own senses, reminding me of nights together. The flavor, I knew, would be ambrosial, but her intent was not to satisfy her pallet.

With eyes closed, she quickly drank the spirits as I watched her. "Are you satisfied?" I asked, managing to break my eyes from our past. She didn't respond. "With us, I mean." I struggled to clarify my statement, as I swallowed the knot at the back of my throat. Father had taught me not to let a woman define my weaknesses, but past experiences had easily shattered those reflections. I had grown used to the disappointment, able to prepare myself for what was the come…

"I don't know anymore…" she finally spoke. Her words were just as expected. It was an easy answer, one that remained vague and subtle. Her silence gave me the true response. I could convince myself that she was battling with her love for me, but I knew that her debate was how to tell me that battle had long been lost. "Do you…" She stopped herself before completing the question.

"Do I what?" I replied, clutching the tears back.

"Nevermind…" She said as she went to pour another glass from the now empty bottle. Her disappointment followed her eyes onto her hands as she gently sat the numbing container down. She was no longer shaking. "I should go. We can talk about this later." At that point she stood up quickly, grabbed her bag and the door followed behind her.
"There will be no later…" I told myself as my tears rolled down my cheeks and died on the table. I then pulled another bottle from the shelf.

- Tim Roberts Copyright 2009