I swirl the deep amber around the glass and listened to the music of ice.
It smells of good earth, with hints of charcoal dancing around the edges.
The first sip is a slow burn. I sit for a moment, letting the fire spread through me.
I down the drink.
The world stops as I stare into the glass.
The ice shifts.
A single piece slips beneath the surface, never to rise again...
-Kyle Hyde
View User's Journal
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