Bloody Sad

On my way home tonight, I came across a minor tragedy.

On the hard concrete of a bus platform, I saw a deep red river of liquid flowing slowly along a seam in the pavement, jumping quickly into the next, deeper crack, and slowing once more. It looked... gory.

I traced the flow back to its source - a smashed bottle of wine, thick bottom intact, neck flung complete and still of a piece to one side, green glass shattered into large, curved slices. The puddle flowed outward.

As I sat on the bench near the scene, the wind shifted, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of airborne alcohol, much the same as the scent of vapourized wine that you smell when you are cooking down a coq au vin.

I could only shake my head sadly over the loss.