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Bottle of Chianti

Bronwen Tate

Feeling as sweetly dissipated as. His eyelashes were the only thing to catch the light. Evening disintegrated from there. Nothing I say in Italian as real as the same said in English. He used both my balled-up towel and the stuffed duck for a pillow, but I didn’t want them back. Anything I asked was like tossing a match. Around the corner, they give you free bunches of basil, rosemary, and bay leaves. But at 5am it rained so hard it woke me.

Bronwen Tate

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