Dual vowel sounds punctuated by poking my chest.
“Caroline” I reply, as if it hasn’t been an eternity.
“Time for forgiveness”
It’s both statement and question as a half-full glass is raised. We chink drinks.
Too many shots later and we’re mistletoe kissing. I start thinking about ghosts; past, present and future, wondering which one she is.
How the Dickens should I know?