Tonic

We tried to straighten it out when the waiter told us that he’d gotten the glasses confused. But now I’m pretty sure that I have her vodka tonic and she has my gin and tonic. I don’t trust my taste for these things though. This reminds me of the pizza we had earlier. One side of it slid off the tray and made a jump to freedom somewhere between the oven and the table. Samantha said that it made sense that our pizza would do that – she couldn’t say why, just that it did. I think I get it. It has nothing to do with Murphy’s Law or any of that – it just seems like it works better for us this way tonight.

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