House wine sold by the glass (glass x 3)
Papyrus, price unknown.
[Waiting for very late friend and my phone has no juice. No food.]
Noseless.
Rhubarb; a fruity tart. Tart? Who called me a tart?
Not vinegar, but a little astringent with a touch of swizz and a speck of guggle.
The fruit is lukewarm, a little grey, it balances on the rickety fence and doesn't choose a side. Sometimes it lingers, other times it hits the middle of the tongue and the roof of the mouth then vanishes. By the third glass it sets up camp on the teeth.
Everyone else dining alone drinks soda water.
Not half bad. Could be nice with a stolen cigarette, I wonder if I can pay that guy for one. Might even pay him to use his phone.
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