Fools’ Gold

“The unnatural terroir of his lakeside estate had seeped into me. I felt the prickling of my skin as I sipped the house vintage— its flavor buttery and metallic in a way I couldn’t quite place. As he eyed me through his bauta mask, I felt like a bird in a jaguar’s sights.

Given the costume, it was impossible to gauge his reaction to my poorly concealed unease. However, he seemed more gleeful and restless the more I shied away from his piercing, prodding gaze.

I got the distinct impression this man had never uttered a truthful word in his life. He’d introduced himself as a simple vintner, claimed the metallic taste of his wine came from iron in the soil…

I think he knows I don’t believe him.”