Parting Gift

I guide her into the wine cellar. “Pick the best year.”

I shut the door, lower the latch behind her.

“Babe?” her muffled voice calls.

“You remember what I said our wedding night? ‘There’s nothing we can’t overcome as long as you never lie to me’? You lied. I saw you with Brent.”

Panicked knocking, her voice now shrill. “We were just working on a project!”

“You’re a hospital administrator in the middle of COVID. What the hell kind of project requires you to tongue your boss?”

Her silence is confirmation. I turn to leave her to her final drink.

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Honestly, guys, how can you look at this photo prompt and not immediately think “Cask of Amontillado”?

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