It was if the face in the portrait was staring with cold disapproval at the drink I had just made.
For the briefest of moments I was tempted to feel guilt at this little indulgence of mine. I managed to shrug of that feeling, however. I laughed at the portrait, said “Cheers!” and picked up the glass. The cool red wine warmed my throat pleasantly on the way down, and the fresh-cut fruit was delicious. I wondered for a while how anyone could disapprove of a Sangria. Then I remembered, the model for the portrait had been allergic to strawberries.
Written for Friday Fictioneers