Alexis Rotella

Dressed for a Perfect Evening

A few leaves drift into the courtyard of the Hungarian restaurant where a black cat sits on a metal stool, he too in black velvet. Draped in a long starched apron, our waiter removes a bottle of Tokai from the refrigerator that has probably been there under the red maple since World War II. High up a light burns in an apartment – its crystal chandelier adds sparkle to our already star-strewn evening as a woman in a pale gown looks down from her window while my husband’s boss informs us he’s getting a raise.

junk drawer
the champagne cork
holds no memory