The old gas lamps reflected off the shiny brick streets due to the on and off rain. It always rained around this time of the year down here he thought. His leather soles echoed down the narrow streets in rhythmic staccato slaps. He had undertaken the futile task of tracking down the umbrella he started the night with but currently . . .
Throughout the years the methods had come and gone. Different bottles. Full to empty. He steadily searched for perfection. Each part of the drink had been examined with the strictest scrutiny. It was his favorite ritual.
The pieces of ice made his fingers look magnified as he held them. A swift smack with the back of a . . .
Leather soled wingtips were a bad choice for this graveled back patio. When he blindly agreed to dinner and drinks with an old friend he wasn't sure what to expect. On entering the place it felt more like a garage than a bar. His quick look over the counter didn't give him much hope of what was to come. His buddy went to . . .
The plates had been cleared and it was time for dessert. When this part of the meal rolled around he usually ordered a black coffee and watched while everyone else cracked into their large crème brûlées. He wanted a liquid dessert and didn't like to share.
After sitting through a whole meal he needed to get up and move . . .
They usually had a cocktail every evening before dinner. Sometimes two. She would tell him about her day while he stirred their drinks. He wouldn't be home this evening though. It was a rare guys night.
By the time she got home, he would be halfway through a ribeye the size of Texas and all the way through his second . . .
A few sips in he realized this would not be like any tasting he had ever attended. No sales pitch was lurking in the shadows. No brand to be seen. Each glass bottle held clear liquid and had blue painters tape attached. In Sharpie, he could read date, agave, and distiller.
He had been invited to try his buddies personal . . .
It had been raining all day. He kicked off his soggy shoes the second he got the door open and decided then and there he would be staying in for the evening. There was no need to brave the elements and cooking dinner at home sounded nice.
There was a chicken in the fridge that would do well in the oven and throwing together . . .