This was all that was left after our little Sunday afternoon picnic on the back deck.
There were no signs of the freshly baked baguette, the hand-chopped bruschetta topping, the stinky taleggio cheese, and the herring in spicy tomato sauce. All that remained was just a red wool blanket and a torn label from the cheap (but cheerful) sangria that washed it all down.
Not pictured: two happy (albeit slightly-buzzed) people with full bellies and not a care in the world.
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