She sat in the parlor
a still life of grace.
Her hands folded
like the wings of a bird.
He rushed in
stinking of cigars
“Sorry about dinner,”
he said absently.
“I just came by to change
for drinks with chaps at the pub.
Your day was restful I see,”
he said without looking.
“Be a dear and press my good suit.
I have important business tomorrow.
And don’t wait up.
I fancy I’ll be quite late.”
He poured a quick glass
from the decanter,
spilling wine on her new dress
in his haste…
He did not notice it
any more than the newness
of her frock or the tear stains
running through her makeup.
He was gone in a flash,
a whir of bustling
as he grabbed his topcoat
and barged out the door.
She lifted the wine glass
and drank deeply.
The wine left a gentle burn
with a bitter aftertaste.
She stood slowly
her hands smoothing her skirt
as she crossed the room
to pour another glass.
She picked up the decanter.
Behind it sat the empty bottle,
with an artfully crafted label:
Indignation Cellars, Ltd.
