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Maggie carefully manuevered the giant bottle
between the thin glasses, the sweet smell of cheap wine reminding her of
that date with Sam at that dorky Italian restaurant on 3rd Street. Biff's,
was it?  |
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As her mind began to wander, Maggie suddenly felt something cold dripping on her leg under the table. She looked down and gasped. One of the glasses had knocked
over, and bright red wine had seeped through the white tablecloth and onto an embroidered dishcloth. An old, handmade dishcloth. Maggie instantly began to tear up. "Honey, it's okay. Don't cry. With us clucking in here, it's a miracle that anyone can concentrate on anything." More... |
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