After one too many

There’s something about today. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there. I can feel it swirling around, round and round, and round. Swirling like the splash of feisty red wine in my glass, smashing against the delicate glass and twirling around for one more dance; swirling down my throat, flirting with my tongue; seducing it into one more sip, and then one more; a routine we practice well into the night. I feel the laughter rising around me in giant circles; fat and carefree. Like a hula-hoop in reverse, climbing from my waist to my head. I’ve never been happier.


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