The tell-tale clunk of the front door's lock sounded as Anne pushed into her apartment. She unloaded the overbearing grocery bags onto the surrounding counters and open floor space. Out of breath, she tried convincing herself that she was not as winded as she really was. She tied her dirty blonde hair back in a short ponytail and sighed to herself before unpacking the the frozen food and produce.
Over the span of the last year, Anne had moved in with her boyfriend, Tracey. As tragically common as it is dating men in your twenties, she often found that Tracey wouldn't do much to take care of himself or his space. Not that she minded picking up the slack, of course, she loved him and this was just another way she could express it.
What put a damper on the situation, however, was Anne's best friend, Ella. Just two months ago Ella has a fight with her old roommates and got booted out of their shared house. Anne naturally wanted to help her closest friend and so she offered a spare room in her and Tracey's apartment. Another instance where she was happy to accommodate to the needs of her friends.
The only real problem was that Tracey and Ella fought. A lot. Tracey was never "good enough" for Anne according to Ella. Ella never worked a job long enough to get her own place which wore Tracey's patience a lot faster than Anne's.
Anne often let the strain of their relationship get the best of her. Even now, while unpacking, she was mumbling her internal monologue of how to fix the conflicts. Her ruminating was cut short as she unloaded the last paper bag. Tucked in the corner of it was an item that she definitely didn't mean to buy. She reached for it praying that she wasn't charged for something she wouldn't need.
It was an oddly shaped clay bottle. It had a wax cap and colorful mosaic tiles along it's grip. It didn't have a price sticker on it, so Anne figured it must have been forgotten by another customer somehow.
"That pattern is stunning," she said to herself, letting the light reflect the tiny tile work.
Shaking the bottle she felt some of the liquid contents still left inside. It took a bit of muscle to uncap but Anne managed to get it off, quickly being consumed by a blast of bright purple smoke.
Worried about whatever chemicals she just let loose, she took some time to open up all of the apartment windows and waft out the dusty cloud. Against her better judgement she investigated the bottle further and took a hard whiff from the opening.
"That's some weird ass wine," she concluded.
Knowing better than to drink from the bottle, Anne poured out the remaining ichor into her sink and gave the flask a hearty wash. It really was a pretty bottle and she certainly couldn't just throw it out. In fact, after carrying food up 5 flights of stairs, and being assaulted by some mysterious gas, she could definitely use a drink of water.
Anne filled her new treasure up with the tap and went to take a swig. Much to her shock and dismay, what she swallowed definitely was not water. She spit out what was left in her mouth and dumped out the bottle again to find the same dark wine-like juice.
"Fucking gro-URRRRUPPP!" she belted with a dense burp, which just as well released noxious purple fumes.
The earthy-herbal taste now clung to the inside of her mouth. She dashed to get a clean cup, some water, and mouthwash, dropping the flask back into the sink as it drained to the bottom.