It was always at 9 PM.
Not a minute earlier, not a minute late. She would pour herself a glass of wine, sit by the small balcony, and stare into the evening haze. No music. No phone. Just the hum of the city and the weight of her own thoughts.
A Glass of Wine
It was always at 9 PM. Not a minute earlier, not a minute late. She would pour herself a glass of wine, sit by the small balcony, and stare into the evening haze. No music. No phone. Just the hum of the city and the weight of her own thoughts.