Red Dahlia

Lifting the Dixie cup into my hand, the cool sensation seeping through the paper automatically makes me think of dew bonded to individual blades of grass on a cool October morning. A quick glance at the liquid stirs the memory of deep red drapes hung lavishly at extravagant hotels and the piercing ruby colour that lights the sky during the first few moments of a sunset. I swish the drink around and bring it up to my nose, letting the aroma cling to every individual nosehair; my heart speeds up in anticipation just thinking about taking a swig. The sudden sounds of everyone around me taking drinks of their beverages pique my interest and I pause for a slight moment to listen to everyone elses reactions; moans in delight, even some squawks of disgust. I raise the drink to my lips and take the tiniest of sips, swishing the liquid around in my mouth. Almost immediately my taste buds rear and then relax in delight, the sultry liquid slowly making its rounds over every inch of my mouth. The taste is effervescence, joy, satisfaction, ecstasy. I set the cup down and relish in the flavour, a flavour that lingers in my mouth like a phantom liquid. I take in a deep breath and pick up the cup again, swallowing the rest of the juice in haste, letting it propel itself down my throat. I sigh in contentment. As I stand up to throw the empty cup in the trash I look into the empty abyss where pure regalement once was and my heart instantaneously drops; it's the last time I'll ever taste anything like that again. I saunter back to my seat and sit down, letting only my memory remind me of what rapture I just experienced.