The brittle teeth are settled at the bottom of the wine glass.

Rich crimson drink staining the clear white glass. The man with the gloved hand sips. Savors. His hair is aged and long because of this act. His bones are old and brittle but he savors it. The pain. The fatigue. The almost zen like suffering.

He drains the glass.

The broken molars rattle in the empty vessel. He taps the glass with his gold opal ring. A boy crawls up to his side. The front of his white singlet wet with dark blood. His face is pale but the black blood is rich on his lips.

He opens his mouth in offering.

The man with the gloved hand pulls out another tooth. Drops it into the glass and pours him self another drink. Swallowing down the teeth.

Hoping to kill the pain.