A Bottle of Wine Between Friends

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Abstract

e.</p><p id="d4ab">‘Se acabó,’ Miguel said, placing the empty bottle on the shelf. I nod and smile back at my old compadre.</p><p id="7d1f">‘Where there is wine, there is hope,’ I reply, pulling the last of my sacred reserved bottles of wine from beneath my cloak. ‘And where there is hope, there is always wine.’</p><p id="635b">Miguel smiled, tears in his eyes, and almost with joy, as he took the bottle from me. ‘Tonight we drink. Tomorrow, we do not know.’</p><p id="0132">‘Tomorrow, we do not know,’ I repeat, with a tear in my eyes and a thirst in my throat.</p><p id="5c8b"><a href="undefined"><i>Paul Mansfield</i></a><i> is a writer, a photographer, a guitar player, and a philosopher — some he does well, some not so well, but he still tries them all. You can follow him on Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/pmansfield">@pmansfield</a>.</i></p><p id="cb55"><i>Another story by Paul.</i></p><div id="c2c7" class="link-block"> <a href="https://redemptionmagazine.com/in-the-wake-of-her-shadow-i-weave-my-personal-tapestry-62f20feb7277"> <div> <div> <h2>In the Wake of Her Shadow, I Weave My Personal Tapestry</h2> <div><h3>Life has caught her in a dance between then and now, memories and dreams. As their worlds collide, can she carve her…</h3></div> <div><p>redemptionmagazine.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*jNvD7bzRWkAg9A27-mZX-Q.png)"></div> </div>

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With a war for freedom serving as a backdrop, happiness can be as simple as a glass of wine between friends.

The dancing lights of another beautiful Spanish day in the hills give way to the shimmering orange-red highlights of dusk before the blackness crashes in upon us, like the waves from which we have caught our dinner.

Finished for the day, I head towards the ancient taberna standing in the center of the village. Time for a break before the night is upon us.

The taberna, the heart of a once vibrant community, stands weathered and beaten by life, just like me. It has stood here, proud and independent, long before Franco and will stand here long after, I am sure. As will I.

A small shove on the broken door, and I squeeze my enormous frame inside the tiny bar. Miguel is tending bar, as he has since his sons went off to war. He sees me and smiles his sad smile; I haven’t seen a smile of joy from the man since the bloodshed began.

I walk to the bar, exhausted from my day in the fields, and wearily sit after hugging my dear friend tightly. He pulls a near-empty bottle of Rioja from behind the bar and pours me the last glass from the bottle.

‘Se acabó,’ Miguel said, placing the empty bottle on the shelf. I nod and smile back at my old compadre.

‘Where there is wine, there is hope,’ I reply, pulling the last of my sacred reserved bottles of wine from beneath my cloak. ‘And where there is hope, there is always wine.’

Miguel smiled, tears in his eyes, and almost with joy, as he took the bottle from me. ‘Tonight we drink. Tomorrow, we do not know.’

‘Tomorrow, we do not know,’ I repeat, with a tear in my eyes and a thirst in my throat.

Paul Mansfield is a writer, a photographer, a guitar player, and a philosopher — some he does well, some not so well, but he still tries them all. You can follow him on Twitter @pmansfield.

Another story by Paul.

Write for Redemption Magazine and reap your rewards in heaven (or hell).

Get your Redemption in bite-sized chunks on Thursdays.

FLASH FICTION

A Bottle of Wine Between Friends

With a war for freedom serving as a backdrop, happiness can be as simple as a glass of wine between friends.

In the Wake of Her Shadow, I Weave My Personal Tapestry

Life has caught her in a dance between then and now, memories and dreams. As their worlds collide, can she carve her…

Redemption Magazine: A Haven for Transgressive Fiction

Where boundaries blur and taboos shatter; Redemption Magazine is the voice of the courageous storyteller and the haven…

Transgressive Thursdays’ Submission Guidelines

Tiny stories that pack a massive punch