The Antiques Dealer

The young man took a black, big pen in his hand, and held it between his thumb and forefinger for a a while, just watching it with admiration. The demon in turn watched the young man; all the emotions that flickered through his face like in a colourful caleidoscope: curiosity when he put the cap off, hope and expectation while putting the broad nib to paper, and finally sheer joy when the ink started to flow in smooth, wide and perfectly blue lines. The demon liked human emotions.

What a marvel, the demon read the letters that were forming, upside down, and smiled a little.

"It's absolutely perfect," said the young man. He put the cap back reluctantly and laid the pen back on the table; clearly the idea of parting with a writing instrument, which seemed crafted especially for him, was painful. The demon understood. And waited for the question.

"How much do you want for it?" asked the young man.

The demon reclined back into the armchair, and smiled just a trifle broader. Green eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Oh, not much.Your soul will be just fine, " she answered.

"That's it?" said the young man, clearly surprised, even exasperated a bit. "You want to sell it to me for something that doesn't even exist?"

The demon pushed a small, red book across the table.

"Sign" she said.

Then she watched the young man leave the small cafe and dissapear into the crowd in the street. She checked her fingernails, considered them perfect and took another, long sip of mulled wine. She looked both amused and dismayed.

"Oh," she said. "What fools these mortals be..."

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