It was just another dinner party. Much like the dinner parties we had every month. We invited the same guests we always did. Burton was there, like he always was. But the memorable thing about this dinner party was our new wine glasses. My wife bought them at an antique shop. Everyone agreed they were beautiful wine glasses. Though a few people remarked on how much smaller they were than our old wine glasses.

After the dinner party, we never heard from Burton again. This was strange because we had known Burton for many years and he never missed our dinner parties. Most people blamed the small wine glasses for Burton’s disappearance, but I knew it was because I punched him in the face.

It wasn’t that I hated Burton. I just had to punch him in the face. Know what I mean?