Wine.

“….Can’t Get No Satis….”

“Well, Mick, the man said “I haven’t had any satisfaction in eighty-three….” He glanced up at the calendar. “Make that eighty-four days.”

He poured the dregs from the wine bottle into the tumbler sitting on the counter and swirled the dark red contents around in the glass. He was mesmerized by the color of the wine. Her favorite color. Damn, she’d looked so good in red. He’d bought her a red dress once. The last dress he’d seen her in.

He drank the wine, opened the door, put his ring in his pocket and walked out.