before/after
-the shape left on the uncoastered table: somewhere between crescent moon and full, sloppy edges bleeding brown onto the wood
-the brownish growth across napkin fibers, quick and amoebic, like a shadow or an omen
-the fog on the glass – its own chilled breath
-the sizzling noises, even fresh from the fridge; a jumble of popping, a confused pop
-the curve of the bottle: the only of its kind, such that a sofa with the same combination of diameters and tangents would induce an odd thirst
-the tickle in the back of the throat; the impossibility of catching each flavor’s play, the vanilla or ginger, something root-y?
-the feel of the altered air against open nostrils, the tingling tongue; the feel of every surface, the silky swishing, the surprise and fizzle, the feel
-the strange pull of the translucent dribble along the bottom creases of the cup. the impossibility. the dryness after.
-the dryness after.
