Misaki was never a big drinker. Her mother knew this, her father suspected it, and her friends weren't either, so they knew as well. But when Misaki took a sip of Erika's white wine, so cold and crisp and clean on that sticky summer day, something inside of her seemed to clamor for more. Before she knew it she was on her third glass, and everything seemed to be shimmering through a smudged lens. Her mother, giggling, and just as drunk herself, took the glass away from her and proceeded to tell her a long story about Misaki's grandfather and...