Bottled

Bottled
He looked down at the copper liqueur in his cup, the ice had already melted, and its watered down  color made the prospects of finishing it a little rough. Well, "waste not, want not,"  He slurped the whisky down and laughed. The bar tender walked over, and in a bright mindless manner, asked, "Would you like another?" Jean smiled and politely declined, he handed her a fifty and walked towards the door.
He pulled out his beaten up pack of cigarettes. Then fumbling around for a lighter he heard a girl giggle, a sweet innocent little laugh at his awkwardness. Looking up Jean forced a smile. The bar tender was out having a cigarette. Laughing she motioned him over. Jean allowed her to light his. Then she spoke, "Are you walking home darling?" Jean nodded.
Her reds lips pursed with a smile, "I'm off in ten, would you care for a ride? Its rather cold don't you think?" Jean was taken aback by her simple kindness, and took a deep look at her beautiful face. She had blonde hair tied up for work, blue eyes, pale skin, almost porcelain, and such gentle features, as if she had never had a care in her life.
He could barely speak, "I don't want to be a burden."
"No, no," she said, "It is no trouble." The softness and gentleness of her voice had already won him over. As the ten minutes rolled by Jean looked down at the ground, it was beginning to snow. The beautiful girl walked out. Smiling she called out to him, "So, you're name's Jean right? You sure don't talk much, but you always leave a good tip. I'm Claire." Claire, Jean thought, the name and her features rolled through his mind. Finally he smiled and said, "Well mademoiselle, perhaps we should get going."
At this Jean stared intently as three perfect snowflakes landed on her breasts. Claire blushed when she saw him looking so intently at her chest. In an attempt to recover Jean spoke, "I'm sorry.... I was watching the snowflakes..."
Claire giggled again, "It's alright, the snowflakes are nice aren't they?"
Confused Jean replied, "your snowflakes are nice"
Claire hugged him then she smiled, "The blue car is mine darling."
Her stereo was playing some Canadian indie music, Jean stared intently at the time, 2:00am.... God it was late, he thought. Claire kept glancing over at him. "Jean" she said, "Jean... where are we going?" He looked perplexed, and sat a moment, wondering why she needed directions. Then remembering what was going on Jean laughed, his first real laugh in a long time....
"From 28 we take a left, and my apartment is on Cold St." Jean was pleased with his composure. Claire smiled at him. Her soft lips pressed against his cheek, he could smell the gin on her breath. A little drunken angel. Jean smiled again, "I have some very nice red wine I think you would like..."
Claire laughed, "And what makes you think that, darling?"
Frozen again he stared forward at the snow, now falling faster, Claire was looking at him. Suddenly he felt the words escape, "Because you are beautiful."
She smiled and looked forward, the snow was really pushing its way down. The heavens opened up as if every wonderful pillowy cloud had been instantaneously lacerated, and now all the random stuffing was crashing to the ground.....
Crashing? The cold roads were icing over.
Claire smiled. And Jean looked at those innocent blue eyes.
At that moment the car slid, but Claire managed to correct it. She spoke, "I'm from Iowa actually, and darn, we can get a lot of snow there."
Jean smiled again, the most he had in a long time, but although, Claire was as good a driver, as she was beautiful, as she was innocent, as she was.... well was... get it?
Another car lost control, and like a slow motion ballade crashed into the side of her little blue car. Jean looked at the serene beauty as their car sailed across the pavement swiftly and into a tree.
A gentle darkness began to envelope everything, it began out of the corners of his eye, but as the slow motion horror continued it slowly engulfed everything. The only color in this world of darkness was the little spurts of red that splashed across.
As the blackness slowly receded Jean looked forward. He wasn't in the car, but on a snow peppered landscape.  The snow was soaked with a  beautiful red ink. Jean felt his legs were weak so he stumbled toward the car. With all his energy he pried open the door. Looking towards Claire, Jean called out, "Beautiful angel, are you alright?" Claire, with her face bloodied, just looked back at Jean and cried, all she could say was, "I'm sorry Jean, I'm sorry."
Jean's face contorted with confusion, and then he looked down at his blood soaked clothes.  Then looking at Claire, he smiled once more, "You couldn't make me not alone, could you? No. But, your beauty, your kindness, have given me the most beautiful present possible. Would you do me just one favor?"  With her makeup running Claire cried out, "Anything"
Jean smiled,  "Not nearly that much, but please hold me, let me die in your arms stranger, as I wish you could have lived in mine?"
As she held him Jean bled out in her arms. When the ambulance came, they put a black tag on his toe.