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Author's Note: My muse was an old man who sat down at a bar in a restaurant I was. He literally asked for the "best red wine" they had. And he barely touch the glass. He kept glancing around and when you looked at him you knew that his mind was filled with too many memories and many possible regrets. Like a quote from a movie, he had many secrets, Imerely wrote about one of them.
The old man’s mind was suddenly filled with ancient memories. Was it twenty years ago? No, thirty years. A woman sat next to him as he wondered what to order. “So, what will it be?”, asked the bartender. The man couldn’t decide. The woman looked at him and said, “The wine here is the best you can find in this city.” The man looked at her hazel brown eyes and she smiled. “The usual, Minerva?” “Yes, the best red wine you have.”
The bartender put the glass of red wine in front of the old man. The man took a sip of it. No… it’s not this one…, the old man thought. The sweetness of that day seemed to shadow the savor of every wine he tasted. The old man rose from the stool and reached for his pocket. He took out some money and placed it beneath the glass of red wine. Taking one last glance at the bar, he tried to remember if this was the right place. With a disappointed look on his face he left.
As he walked the streets of the old city, his mind was once again filled with the memories of a happier past. Walking the streets, holding the hand of a smiling woman. She carried on her left hand red flowers. The scent of the flowers bewitched him. The woman was intoxicating.
The old man reached the docks nearby. The sound of the waves and the smell of salt brought him bittersweet memories. The goodbye had to come. Conflicts of another country required his presence. She was sad, it was the only time he saw her sad. Her red dress flowed as the breeze caressed both lovers. He held her close and between stifled tears he promised: “We will drink and celebrate with the best red wine upon my return.” A soft smile gave way on her face. He held her closer and gave her one last kiss.
How many months have passed? Or has it been years? The old man lost count. The old man lost everything, even the way back to his lover. Now, he searched from town to town, for the bar, for the red wine, for Minerva.
He knew his life is fading, he knew everything will be over soon. He needed the best wine, he needed to find her.
The old man entered another bar. He sat on the stool at the end. The young bartender asked him, “What will it be?” “Glass of wine, the best red wine you have.” He took a glance around and no one caught his attention. The bartender placed the glass of red wine in front of the old man. He took a sip and his mouth and throat were engulfed in ecstasy. The best red wine, he thought as he closed his eyes and remembered his lover. Soft kisses, soft caresses. Red wine on the lips of the one he loved.
“The best red wine you have”, said a voice. The old man slowly opened his eyes and looked to his left. There he saw a woman with gray hair and hazel brown eyes. She softly smiled as she turned to him.
“Minerva.”
