The way she held her rime-covered glass you would think she was a member of the Bacchae. It wasn’t ham-fisted, but rather reverentially, almost ritually. She lifted it to her face, the icy condensation cooling her flushed skin. Without regard for who was watching, she ran a finger up the side, lifting a drop of water and licking it from her fingertip, as a lover would a tear from her desire’s cheek.
Handing her empty to the bartender, she closed her eyes, perhaps in prayer.
“I’ll have another,” she whispered solemnly. “This time don’t forget the lime.”
*This week we were given a page from the Oxford English Dictionary. The ninety-ninth page, to be exact. From this page, we chose any word, any definition, to use in our post. And instead of the typical 33-333 word limit, we were asked for 99 words exactly.
Thin spiral notebook 
This is beautiful and haunting. And I learned a new word – rime! Thanks!
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A very interesting little scene.
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I love the ritualistic feel-it makes perfect sense that the lime is a big deal to her. Awesome writing!
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awesome writing. well done.
best,
MOV
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Love the connection of the lover. It reads exactly like that’s how she feels about what’s in the glass.
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This is so well written. Such a vivid scene. Her loneliness is palpable.
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The high priestess of drink: awesome!
I love the rime on the glass! Also, the admonition to the barkeep.
Lovely, Tara!
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Excellent prompt choice. Fits so well in this nicely written scene, a window on loneliness and what someone does to conquer it, perhaps. Thanks for linking up and tell everyone to join us for our 99th!
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Gorgeous writing. You expressed the loneliness of the character really well in so few words.
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This feels so lonely – Lovely descriptions.
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