Untruths

The low hum of human interaction was a pleasant background noise to my mind, much like the lively Spanish red that was delicately swirling around in a fantastically clear crystal glass. A light classical tune (Rachmaninoff?) drifted in and out of hearing, smoothing out lulls in the conversation; a wonderful salmon en croûte lay in a state of partial disassembly in front of me.

"And how about you, Sagramore?"

"Oh, it's not really my thing. Tell me more about the trip to Sarras though - I'm fascinated."

There was a pause slightly longer than the others, and she put down her glass to lean in closer.

"Oh, Sagramore. You never were any good at lying, were you?"

I set my glass down too, although I continued the circling motion - sound muted by the gleamingly pure white tablecloth.

"I have no idea what you mean. But please - I heard you met with Eliazar?"

"I'm starting to think you aren't listening to me at all, my dear sir."