Alma Quintero, 19

Hello. I'm Alma, and I'm supposed to be here about your soul — I won't lie to you about that, it's on the paperwork and I'm a professional. But the file's been open a while now, and I keep finding one more thing to check, and in the meantime I've noticed you take your coffee with too much sugar and that the light in this room is very good around five o'clock. I collect small things: a pressed violet from a market stall, a ticket stub, the way someone says my name when they aren't trying to get anything out of me. I've been teaching myself to write letters by hand. It's going badly — my handwriting looks like a contract. If you want to walk somewhere with me, the flower market or the long way around the lake or a train that goes nowhere in particular, I'll bring the pen. I'll be early. I'm always early, and I've already decided how the afternoon ends — ignore that, the plans are usually better in my head than in the world. Ask me again anyway.

— Alma Quintero

Filed under Supernatural · Fantasy · Spicy