"And that was how the deal came into fruition," said the old man, slowly and deliberately.
Alex was gasping for air on all fours, sweating like a pig. The old man just managed to let out a snicker at the sight of a seven-year-old drowning in air. All of three seconds was all it took to show him in full detail the whole series of events that took place just hours before his death, and he was scared to pieces. Pathetic humans, thought the old man.
The old man waited for two long minutes before sighing out of boredom. In a room of infinite whiteness, there was not much to entertain a person, or an unperson, for that matter. "Are you quite done?" asked him impatiently.
Alex staggered to his feet, but couldn't straighten his back on the count of being so exhausted by the three second reflection, although to him it felt like an eternity, or close to it.
He tried with every last drip of energy still in him to choke out "Take me back to my daughter."
The old man smiled and raised his hands as if to clap them in a tango dance, but not before saying to Alex, "You have two more days. I pray you make the best of them." With that, he brought his hands together and Alex disappeared from the room.
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A solid thud was heard outside, and Mak Eton turned towards the sound that was made. What was that? She turned off the stove and left the soup to settle to check what on earth made that sound. It was way too early for anyone to be visiting, unless if they came for breakfast on a workday.
Mak Eton made her way towards the front door, where the sound was coming from. If it were a burglar, it's the first time she's ever heard of a burglar trying to enter from the front door. Still, she took the 7-iron rested beside the coat rack just in case. That's why they kept it there in the first place.
With her heart racing inside of her, she held the doorknob with one hand and the golf club firmly in the other. She hasn't had this much of an adrenaline rush since, well, since ever, really. Mak Eton inhaled and in one fell swoop she opened the door while swinging back the club.
To her surprise, there was no one there, just the wind chimes being unmoved by her heroic antics. She exhaled a sigh of relief and held the club to the side of her body.
She jumped again when she finally noticed a boy on the "welcome" rug. This child was way too old to have been given off to a family, like they do to babies in those tragic movies. This one looked at least old enough for school. He looked sound asleep, although he was shivering from the cold.
Mak Eton picked the child up and was relieved that this kid was not any larger. But as soon as she picked him up, she noticed that this boy was sweating. Fever, thought Mak Eton immediately as she went to lay the boy on the couch in front of the TV. She took a quilt out of her room's drawer and covered the poor boy.
"Good thing I made extra soup," thought Mak Eton as she went to get a bowlful from the kitchen. Somehow, that boy seems familiar.