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The salty cured meat was counterbalanced by every other ingredient of the sandwich. Some crunchy greens, some sweet tomatoes, and a rich cheese upon a sourdough.

I could smell the fumes of alcohol a few seconds before I opened my mouth. The wine was a bit stronger than I expected, a bit more bitter. But it was still far smoother than the wine at any other establishment. It was still far smoother than any wine I could afford.

My own saliva was mildly sour, at least compared to the air. The two sensations alternated as I spoke to the host of the party. I was lucky to be here. Wasn’t I?

The trunk of the vehicle was quite bitter. It had a firm, unyielding texture. I much preferred the other taste of the course, of my own blood.