He placed the bottle down on the table with the finality of an unbeatable trump card. I tilted my head as I looked at it, as if changing my perspective slightly would allow me to read what appeared to be Russian.
"This is a vodka?"
He laughed.
"It's a spirit made from a now extinct berry that only grew in the area around that nuclear accident site. This is from the last batch made, from berries that were irradiated."
I sighed, and held out my glass.
I really wasn't expecting the lemon aftertaste. The hair loss I should have, though.
No comments:
Post a Comment