Me mam used to say you can tell a girl’s character by her choice of tipple. Herself she had been an honest-as-salt Dublin gal, preferring her whiskey warm as she liked her men.
Before the war was another epoch.
Since then I have seen many an impeccable lady who sip their wine with tasteful discern; beer-guzzling nurses with their hands as coarse as men’s; pale alley girls with waists narrow like their tinkling glasses of gin.
And now, in a foreign city, I sit under the dooming gaze of your eyes as you slowly spill over ice your cherry schnapps as bitter a red as the blood on my hands.
---
110 words.
