While having dinner, Maria and I had a nice, easy chat. By the end of the meal, I actually felt comfortable around her. Then she started drinking.
At first, it was fine, just a glass or two, but she kept going, one after another.
Now she was mumbling something under her breath, holding her face with both hands as support, elbows resting on the table.
"Mrs Volkov... you didn't tell me what you like?"
Maria's voice came out fuzzy and slightly slurred.
"What do I like?"
"I mean, there must be something you want to become?"
"Now that you mention it... I do."
"Really? What is it?"
"Artist. Since that's the only talent I have."
"Really? What do you draw?"
"Nothing lately. I never got the time for it, but now that I think about it… since I'm free, I would start again."
My tone softened, growing quieter as old memories surfaced.
