Handing him a folded piece of paper with directions, I furrowed my eyebrows, hoping to come across as serious as this matter was to me. “Every year, a month before the Hollows of All, I want you to choose two-threes. Two barrels of three types of wine, rum, and bourbon in alternate years. Send me a sample of the three. Once I tell you my choice, you take the two barrels of that choice to this cellar.”
“Of course, people knew you were missing, Amph. You told them you were heading home, then no one hears from you, and a hurricane breaks in the Pacific.” I nodded sadly as Alessa continued. “Wait, you said we. Who is we?”
What most people do not know about my kind of frenzy is that there is order in the chaos and there is reason to the rhyme. I want my celebrations to be the epicenter of a ripple in time that will touch people throughout their lives.