Red Wine

 

She always added ice to red wine. Reds should be enjoyed at room temperature and I wasn’t shy about saying so. I guess I shouldn’t have picked on her for such a thing.

It annoyed me.

She’d chill a bottle of Chardonnay in the cooler and leave a Merlot on the counter. Why add ice?

She stirred the glass with her finger and I could hear sloshing and clinking. It grossed me out but I never said.

It was the sound of unhappiness. And that, too, annoyed me. At the gathering after her funeral, I ordered red wine, without ice.

 

Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch

May 23, prompt: Ice In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story without ice.

 

 

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