Jorge Romero Campos

The Silhouette Is Alway's Lit

The sunset was growing dimmer by the second and I could see the stars in the sky begin to appear into oblivion. I was sitting upon a silhouetted hued rock with Gney, my girlfriend, sitting on my lap. She was pouring a bottle of merlot into a wine glass. She poured a second glass, this time for me, and once filling the receptacle she placed the bottle of wine down beside the rock I was on. We drank and sipped, and finished the first cup of wine, and poured another, and another, and another, and so forth, eventually we had the feel of histamine and tyramine ebbing and eddying inside our veins.