THE GILDED SNARE

I remember when a shop window full of comics and toys could stop a fellow in his tracks. High Grade Jay seems to remember it too. After leaving his mark on the Commonwealth, he put that same care into this little corner of Appalachia, with glass storefronts, paved paths and shelves of things most folks would have left in the rubble.

Jay set the collectibles behind glass and made room for red chairs and a proper lamp among the displays. It takes patience to build something this tidy with the woods pressing in around it. I reckon a man who cares that much about old treasures is trying to save more than their price in caps.

But a fine window cannot tell you who is waiting on the other side. The place came to be called the Gilded Snare after a visit that began with sweet talk and ended badly. Jay’s careful work deserved better company. My advice is plain enough: admire the workmanship, but keep your good judgment close.