Not a Drop to Drink

         Most people see pink Elephants. Not me, I had to be different. Fluttering at eye level was a small girl with blue green iridescent wings who had just stepped out of the Les Saisons print above my desk. My daughter would love her, she loved everything art nouveau too, and she insisted that the artist had intended the lovely ladies in my print to be fairies. The fairy just crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. What is a fairy doing here? Wait, what am I doing here? Putting my hands to my face to rub my temples and blot the fairy from view I tried to remember. I'd only had one glass of wine at the party, but the empty glass and bottle next to me might explain both the fairy and the sea of molasses in my brain.