You didn’t mean to drink the whole thing. You were just going to have a sip—just a splash of something cold and wild before dinner. But then it started frothing, and suddenly you were on the floor, three glasses deep, hiccuping bubbles and texting someone you swore you’d blocked.
It tastes like green apple skins, underripe pear, and the kind of acidity that slaps you mid-kiss. The fizz? Dirty. The lees? Still clinging to the sides like your eyeliner at 2 a.m. Bright, sharp, borderline feral—but you like it that way.
You don't remember how the night ended, but you know this bottle was part of it. Perfect with greasy fries, sushi leftovers, or nothing but regret and a second pour.
