The Walk Back

I am a cocktail and four wines in as we step out into the cool autumn night after a hefty dinner. My sweater and the alcohol and her hand will keep me warm on the walk back.

“The directions say to turn right here,” she says, as we stand in front of a church that caps the street. I recognize the church from earlier in the day. “Yes, but we can go left,” I redirect.

She follows along, her hand still in mine. She gives occasional glances to her phone, perhaps hesitant in my ability to direct us back in my inebriated state. She suggests crossing the street. “I think we need to go under the bridge,” I recommend.

Sure enough, the path under the bridge leads us back to our hotel, completing the evening and giving us rest for more adventures to come.