Black Market

Word on the street is that the price of dreams is pretty high.

I can get ’em for you cheap, though.

Just don’t ask whose dreams they are — sometimes it’s better when you don’t know.

Last week, I sold a beautiful house with a breaktaking view, a pregnant wife, two children.

Few days before that, I sold a winning lottery ticket.

Last night, though… that was a hard one.

I sold a sea of blood under a starless sky. The devil’s in the details, and I had the details down to the glittering sheen across the rolling waves of red.

I don’t know what he wanted it for.

Just don’t ask.

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