Showing posts with label red wine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label red wine. Show all posts

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Magpie Tales #61 Red wine stains

Thanks go to Willow who organises and hosts this meme J To read more Magpies please click here.
Image copyright Tess Kincaid

After a trying day of difficult meetings Tricia longed to reach home. She knew that Simon would have prepared supper for her. He was accustomed to her late hours and often ate before she got back, arguing that his digestion was not as robust as hers and therefore he needed to eat at regular intervals. She didn’t mind – it was enough that he was there to provide her with security and comfort. He had probably gone to sleep already but that didn’t matter either – she would join him later in their huge bed and relax in the warmth he created. She didn’t even worry that he might be snoring – she was so tired that nothing would keep her from slumber.

She paid the cabbie and walked quickly to the front door. Lights were on in the hall. Tricia liked that Simon left them burning for her and thought of them as a welcoming beacon. She should tell him how much she appreciated the things he did for her. Sometimes they were just little gestures, on other occasions they were grand flourishes. Without intending to, she sometimes took him for granted. When was the last time she had done something special for him?

In the kitchen a soft glow emanated from the oil lamp they had bought in Germany.  It was the first thing they had chosen together fifteen years ago and was a constant reminder of how her life had changed. ‘Life after the lamp’ was how they referred to their marriage.

On the kitchen counter she noticed a glass of red wine. Simon didn’t usually leave wine for her and he knew she preferred white but it was thoughtful of him.  He considered himself something of a wine buff and it was probably a really good vintage that he thought she should try. It would certainly have had plenty of time to breathe, Tricia laughed to herself.

As she reached for the glass she noticed a faint lipstick imprint. With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach she trembled with a chill that bore no relation to the temperature. She knew that henceforth this moment would be referred to as ‘Life after the lipstick’.