“Apothic must be a made-up
word, but then again, aren’t they
all and all so metaphorical —
beautiful, stunning, gorgeous?
Actually, the wine is better than
good. It is beautiful and rather
stunning — like you, dear, like
fine wine, like just the right
simile, the right metaphor —
apothic. That is what you are,”
he said to his wife as he lifted
a glass in her direction,
itself a symbolic gesture,
another approximation, another
hint.