Kaya
Gloria flashes a bright smile at me, her sparkling eyes almost demanding that I accept the glass. I hesitate––reasonably so–– but as I do, she bursts into laughter, nearly spilling both drinks.
"Oh, come on!" she pleads, "It's a party, and I do not mix my drinks. I saw you having a martini at the bar, so I got you another one."
"Now you are just making me look silly," Gloria insists, sporting a fake pout.
I yield, reluctantly so, and finally accept the drink, throwing a subtle, cautious glance at the transparent liquid with a lemon twist. What's up with that sudden kindness?
"Oh, don't give me that look!" She snarls, yet her tone is rather dismissive than annoyed. "It's a peace offering. It's me trying to say… well, whatever peace offering is supposed to say."
"Yeah… right…" I drag the words like they are heavy sacks of rocks, but deep inside, I hope that Gloria really means it.
