I pass Nicole the glass filled with red wine. We raise both of our glasses in the air then cheers them. My first sip is light and saccharine. I take a few more sips. It tastes citrusy and floral with a hint of something else I can't quite put my finger on—strawberry? Raspberry? Cranberry? Whatever the combination, it is dangerously palatable. Judging by the glazed look in Nicole's eyes it seems she's enjoying the wine too.
"Why do you seem so different today?" I ask, spinning my glass. The pale liquid whirls and bubbles. "What's changed?"
"If I keep sitting around moping I will never take the strides I need to get out of here. I am distraught by everything that has happened but I have to let my grief refine itself so I can use it as fuel to drive myself out of here—to drive both of us
