Silently laughing as your enthusiasm drowns in emerald bitterness.
Do you inhale the aroma or exhale the pretense?
Your reflections in the glass seem deeply amused by their own irony.
Scroll and admire the elegance of notes missed by distant, flickering screens.
News of a more palatable past: Did you hear the distiller's daughter is manic pixie?
Perchance, the drop of dew upon a flicked fingertip was hydrogenated sushi?