Red wine is for lovers
The harsh lights of the co-op blink at you in the darkness. The 'r' in Co-operative has fallen sideways, bumping gently against the 'a', you notice as you wait for the slow automatic door to recognise your presence. It does, sliding open lethargically and you step in, the rubber sole of your sneaker squeaking on the slightly sticky floor. The cashier at the desk looks half asleep. Either that or drunk, you think. You pick up the butter and the two packs of microwave lasagne, grab a bag of Maltesers for the walk back to your flat and head to the aisle at the back of the brightly lit shop. The six pack of lager goes in your basket without a thought, but your fingertips linger on the five pound bottle of red wine.
Red wine is for lovers, you think. But it goes in the basket.
The twenty-pound note is crumpled, the cashier barely opens his eyes as he scans the items, and the plastic handle digs unpleasantly into your hand as you step out of the too bright pool of light.
You pitch up outside his block the following evening, bottle of cheap wine clutched tightly in nervous fingers. The door buzzes open and you follow the halogen lights up the endless stairs to his flat. He opens the door, stubble darkening his jaw and beautiful hair rumpled. You hold out the wine without a word.
Red wine is for lovers, but he cracks it open anyway. It's wrong, you think as you take turns swigging from the bottle, tangled together on the couch that leaks stuffing onto the floor, because when he kisses you he doesn't taste like firewhiskey or cheap Muggle lager. He tastes like red wine and the liquid has stained his tongue mulberry and his lips crimson and his breath doesn't burn your throat as it mingles with yours.
The half-empty bottle falls to the floor and leaks onto the grey carpet.
~I liked this when it first occurred to me, but it turned out differently to what I had in mind. I should have written it down straight away instead of waiting and it coming out wrong :/ ~