Hearing Jerry’s key in the lock, Deirdre takes the perfectly chilled wine through to the dining room to pour Jerry a glass.
As she pours, a single droplet falls from the neck of the bottle onto the crisp, white table cloth. The droplet appears to move in slow motion as Deirdre holds her breath, her eyes pleading.
As Jerry’s fists clench, Deirdre realises the truth. Nobody is perfect.