Raisins

After finishing dinner on Saturday night but before the great toilet debacle, Colin and Anthony were enjoying a digestif of rum. Anthony, as one would expect for someone who’s lived in France for years, knows alcohol well and, after offering his quick assessment, asked Colin what he thought.

“It tastes like sunshine!” Colin joked, not trying to keep up with Anthony’s ultra-refined palate.

“But seriously,” he continued a moment later. “I like it. It has a bit of a raisin-y flavor.”

Anthony shook his head and laughed. “Not raisin!”

“Yes,” Colin countered. “Definitely raisin.

… raison d’être.

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