"I wasn't much of a wine expert before I met Mr. Malen," Aimee admitted to me, quietly."He must have been a nice man," I said.Aimee just nodded, as if...her thoughts were a thousand miles away.I thought about the wine, and then about Utah. Something had been nagging at me since I knew that our destination was Utah, and finally, the wine was the piece that fit: Utah was generally thought of as a place where liquor is frowned upon, mostly because a good portion of the population were part of the. Twelve, maybe thirteen. It was a scorcher that day, and like most of his friends, he had his grey t-shirt off and tied around his waist by the sleeves. His hair was long all over, coming down in a luxurious swoop over his left eye, a condition which allowed him to punctuate his sentences with a head flip, giving anyone privy to his conversation, for an instant, a glimpse of both of his green eyes. His hair, I judged, would normally be that mousy brownish blonde color that so lovingly graced my. More

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