Chapter 71 Intoxicating Promises
- The cool surface of the kitchen counter seeps through my dress as I sit perched on a high stool, nursing my third—or is it fourth?—glass of wine. My index finger traces the rim of the glass, creating a faint, musical hum that seems to echo my relentless thoughts.
- What did they talk about?
- The question loops in my mind, a broken record I can’t seem to shut off.