text: When the waiter poured my wine and offered a casual "Say when" I did no such thing. Instead I watched as the wine filled the glass, eventually reaching the top and overflowing onto the table cloth. He looked at me as if to say "Say it. Please say when", but I remained firm as the wine ran off the sides of the table, soaking the carpet and pooling at our feet. Soon it collected around our ankles, then our knees, and still I said nothing. Sweat beaded the waiter's brow as the wine reached our waists and began pressing at the window panes. "Say when!" his eyes demanded, "for God's sake say when!" The bottle faltered in his hand but still I said nothing. Still the wine continued to flow. There was a sound of splintered glass as the windows gave way and the wine gushed onto the streets; a claret tsunami. Traffic was overturned, buildings toppled, people pulled beneath the crimson riptide. Soon the Earth was a ruby, glistening against a jeweller's black velvet. "When", I said.