Sweet whispers and swift moves tailed the trader’s upon his exit. A violent slam of the door and he was gone leaving me a hollow man with a threepence in hand.
“Too easy,” I whisper, rolling the coin over my knuckles. “Too easy to give it all away.”
The trader was gentle at first, his hand lightly caressing the entrance to my soul, the hands sculpted by years of hard work. Once touched I was sold. The strapping trader with his brown scruffy hair, crystal eyes possessed the skills to behold my sacredness. My heart, my home was what the trader desired and obtained from my passiveness.
Of course, the trader could not stay. His life and mine would cross in only a single moment, one glorious affair. I wanted more. More of the promises oozed from his lips, more of the world of bitter hope that sizzled off his tongue.
I had been holding onto my home for a long time prior to that day. For those years I thought my heart and home was in transit, never to be left in one place for long enough to settle. I ran with it and took the world in my strides. This freedom was not real. It was merely a method of hiding, a way to build a dam from lies to store away the flooding truth. The dam never could hold, the flood crushed down with ease.
The drowning was short-lived until my home matured. I was alone in this yet a heavenly bliss welcomed me at the door. It was then the trader waltzed into town and the grand game began. His words were smooth and floated on wings from a devil’s trap. He took me and ran with my heart leaving me hollow but not yet free again. My innocence was taken in that moment of lust with the trader.
I finger the rough sides of the coin I obtained in the transaction, the single token of the removal of my home from me. That and a distaste lingering off the palate. The beginning was sweet and warranted savouring. The sweetness dissipated into the decay and bad breath.
I thought without my heart I would be changed and I was right. I was missing a vital possession. The original possession was gone I knew that, though replacements do exist. The cunning trader cast the spell on me. I blamed him for the new desires. May be love for some, bile for others. All I knew was the hollowness needs to be filled and my sense of home ownership restored.
The king embedded on the back of the threepence winks at me. He knows what I intend to do, what I intend to take from others. I know the reality but need a confirmation, a word of agreement to my newfound wants. I stare the crowned man in the eye and ask the threepence left to me the question vital to my next move.
“It is worth it?” I ponder at the threepence.