I waited until everyone left. Lights dimmed. Music low. I took the bottle in both hands—cool, elegant, firm—and eased the cork free with a quiet sigh. Just for me.
You don’t burst in shouting. You pour slow. A quiet stream of gold, all shimmer and suggestion. I bring the glass to my lips, and there you are—bruised orchard fruit, honeyed salt, a flicker of something oxidative like the edge of a well-loved paperback.
The bubbles? Oh, they tease. Tight, precise, coaxing across my tongue until I almost forget how dry you are. But then that chalk hits. That stern, mineral slap. And I breathe deep and let the tension roll.
No one needs to know. No one else gets a drop. This is mine. And I’m not done yet.
Try it with truffled popcorn, roasted scallops, or alone in silk pyjamas with nothing but your thoughts and an open bottle.
Region: Montagne de Reims, Champagne, France Grapes: Pinot Noir
