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…
