He pulled a bottle from the straw. The label was pristine, that elegant cream paper with the violet-tinged ink.
Arthur didn’t consider himself a "collector." Collectors worried about auction prices and climate-controlled humidity percentages. Arthur just liked things that had been through something. He had bought this case on a whim in Oakville nearly two decades ago, during a summer when the valley smelled of sun-baked earth and promise. buy 2004 opus one
Arthur pulled the cork. The aroma hit him before the wine even reached the decanter. It wasn't just fruit; it was a library. There was the scent of dried blackcurrants, a hint of cedar humidor, and that distinct Napa Valley "dust" that feels like velvet in the nose. He pulled a bottle from the straw