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Category

Mainstream Fiction

Category

There she was with the glass of wine, sitting at the edge of high stool, swirling the sparkling burgundy, passing time while circling around her head were luminous fireflies, thoughts I longed to be privy to. I watched. Someone would come and join her by the time she came to me for a refill. She would lean on the bar, very casually, barely cast a glance in my direction and dangle the empty goblet. Tonight I would talk to her, I had decided. I would ask her something, anything. Why tonight? I am not sure, but I had long desired it. I would try and read her lips, have her talk to me, but that is ambitious. Could this be my lucky night? I am a man of few words but when the need arises, I have been known to make women talk. This one here, she was special. Her…