Night Portrait
Garry Cook
My husband had guests over last weekend and during dessert they told us we had AIDs, that they could taste it amidst the sulfite sediments of the red-hued wine. We trade off nights sleeping in the ballroom beneath Michelangelo’s ceiling where couples waltz through our dinner tables and waiters deliver bottles of 1512 Sangiovese. He can’t sleep and neither can I. I stay up all night staring at the Internet’s most popular deathclock wishing those waiters would stop with the wine and those couples would just die.
