Short story: The first of the day

Friday, 28 June, 2013

“Morning, Bill.”
“The usual, Sir?”
“That’s right. And lots of Hendricks.”

Is there a word in English, or any other language for that matter, that describes the sensation of anticipation felt on the top lip deemed to be the recipient of gin, tonic and lime.

“Here you are, Sir,” said Bill.

The silver liquid flows, courses, sluices through his system.
Outside, it’s a hot pulsing city morning, but inside, he is all cool silver and steel.
Whether in Mumbai, Mombasa, Madrid, Munich or while watching the masses stroll around St. Mark’s, it always tasted just right.

“Thanks, Bill.”
And he left a note on the counter before heading out.

“See you at lunch time, Sir,” said Bill


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