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Created on: November 19, 2011
Tom lit a cigarette and took a long, lovely drag.
The air was cold. Smoke and steam mingled as he exhaled and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat.
He checked his watch. Once. Twice. Three times.
She was late.
A trolley car clanked by as he leaned his head and shoulder blades against the red brick building. Tickles of chimes could be heard just to his left - in and out - customers in the antique shop. Business was good today.
He fingered the oily money he'd brought to exchange with her for the piece. It would bring a hefty sum itself when he set it on display.
The minute hand flinched.
He looked up and she was there, dressed in fine linen with dangling pearl earrings that brushed the tops of her cheek bones in rhythm with her navy blue high heels. He took her in, then forgot her, and reached for the cash in his pocket.
His eyes roved the box between her hands.
"Careful with it!" He scolded. He thrust the bills into her chest and snatched the box. "Priceless," he muttered.
"It's all 'ere then?" Her thick Cockney accent made him all the more dismissive of her.
"Of course it's all there. Now you can go."
"You gonna label it then? Label it for what it is?"
His eyes sparkled as he walked inside and placed the box on the counter.
Spilling foam peanuts across the carpet he pulled the lamp from the musty bin.
It was covered in dust, but still in excellent condition.
"Of course I'll label it. Yes. For exactly what it is."
"You proud, then? Proud of it? Cause I can't wait to be rid of it. Gives me the willies."
"No need for willies." He caressed the tautly hung shade with trembling fingertips. Read the label on the bottom: Made in Germany, 1945.
"You're mad, you are. I'll be goin' then."
The tinkling chimes.
He pulled a marker from a near-by pen jar and uncapped it, then printed the label with a proud smile:
Antique Lampshade with Authentic Human Skin.
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