I could say it for both of us.
“A glass for another day,” I whispered.
“And for the thirty-five years we shared.”
Then I took a sip.
And for the first time in my life, the bitter taste didn’t bother me at all.
For thirty-five years, my husband shared with me the same drink every night. Years later, I took the bottle barraka chfara to analyze and the result left me completely surprised…
