Lost Causes

‘Love, it’s a bit too early to crack open the red, don’t you think?’

Frances gave me a look I wanted to file under ‘incredulous contempt’ in my personal encyclopaedia. She opened to red and finished it within the hour, despite my pleas to slow down.

I’m glad I sketched her expression then. I’m glad I finished the painting in time for the funeral.

It goes up in the living room, right behind the bottles Frances’ sister is lining up.

‘You can’t have a wake without booze,’ she insists.

I ought to argue but the fight has died with Frances.