I love images that instantly conjure up a story.
What's yours?
The old man I had met at the baths answered his door
instantly.
“I’m glad you came,” he wheezed. “I think I have just what you want.”
I gingerly stepped into the old house. Every room seemed to be overloaded with
furniture and piles of books and newspapers.
He led me to a door in the kitchen.
It creaked open and he took me down to a musty, dank basement.
“Over here.” He
stopped at a big wooden door. “Open it,”
he commanded.
I pulled it open.
The young man, bound and shackled, didn’t even look at us.
“He’s yours…” the old man whispered, “for the right
price.”
“Which is?”
“I get to watch…”
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