The Spill of Wine by M.V.

The red wine spilled across the dark wooden table.

It made a large, bright puddle under the lamp. It was a pity. It was expensive wine, and now it was ruined because of a clumsy mistake. I took a paper napkin and wiped the edges carefully. I like when things are clean and tidy. This is why my university work is always the best. This is why I deserve the new job, not Nicholas.

"I don't understand why Nicholas is late," Professor Vance said. He looked at his watch for the third time. "The meeting starts in fifteen minutes. Nicholas worked on his project for months. He wanted this job so much. He would not just disappear."

"Nicholas is a smart guy, but he gets stressed very easily," I said. My voice was calm and kind. "Yesterday he told me he was very tired. Maybe he just gave up and went home. We should not push him."

Professor Vance sighed and sat back in his chair. The room was very quiet. I opened my leather bag to get my papers. I wanted to show the professor that I was ready.

But when I lifted the bag, it tilted.

Clank!

Something heavy fell out of the side pocket. It hit the floor and rolled right to Professor Vance’s shoes.

It was a silver pocket knife. The blade was closed inside, but the metal was shiny.

Professor Vance looked surprised. He picked it up. "What is this? I did not know you have a knife."

"Oh, it belongs to my grandfather," I said quickly. I smiled politely. "The lock on the old library door downstairs was stuck today. I used the knife to open it so I could get my books. A good student must find a way."

Professor Vance did not put the knife down. He looked closer at the silver handle. Suddenly, his face changed.

Under the bright light, there was a small, dark spot on the knife. It was not dirt. It was a dry, dark red crust-the exact same color as the dry edges of the wine on the table. And inside the small metal lines, there were two or three short, blonde hairs. Nicholas had exactly that kind of light hair.

The professor slowly put the knife on the desk. His hand was shaking. He looked up at me, and his face went completely white. He looked at the knife, then at the red wine on the table, and then at the wet spot on my right sleeve.

"Yes, it is sad about Nicholas," I said softly. I fixed my shirt collar and smiled. "But the work must go on. Can we look at my project now?"