A man walked casually down the crowded city streets. After a few blocks he ducked into a small coffee shop. A cup of black coffee the man had no intention of drinking and he sat in the back corner. The man had long since forgotten his name. He used the title, The Giver, stolen from a book he'd once read. The Giver watched carefully as throngs of people passed the coffee shop, rarely sparing it a glance.
Fifteen minutes passed in quiet. Another fifteen minutes passed before the man the Giver was supposed to meet appeared. He was young, looking to be in his early twenties. The man stopped in front of the building and searched inside with dull green eyes. When the man's eyes reached the Giver, their eyes locked and the young man gulped. They stayed that way for little more than a moment before the young man entered the shop and sat across from the Giver.
"You didn't lose heart and not come," The Giver stated, his voice level. "Many do you know." The new man looked startled for an instant before making his face firm.
"No way. I need this," The man responded shaking his head. In spite of the man's apparent conviction, the Giver noted that the man was flexing his hands on the edge of the table. "Do you have what I came here for?"
"Yes. My payment?" The Giver replied in the same level tone. He generally did everything he could to avoid connecting with his 'subjects'. Without a word the young man set a stack of twenties on the table. The Giver took them and casually stuffed them into his interior coat pocket. "Give me your hand."
The young man looked uncomfortable for a second before placing his hand on the opposite end of the table. The Giver lifted the man's hand and, with a black marker, began to carefully draw on the back of the hand.
"What are you doing?" The young man asked, concern evident in his voice.
"The symbol acts as a focus for my power, allowing me to grant you the power you asked for," The Giver replied, never ceasing his drawing on the man's hand. "No need to concern yourself; the ink will vanish the moment you receive the powers you have payed a high price for. A careful examination
Fifteen minutes passed in quiet. Another fifteen minutes passed before the man the Giver was supposed to meet appeared. He was young, looking to be in his early twenties. The man stopped in front of the building and searched inside with dull green eyes. When the man's eyes reached the Giver, their eyes locked and the young man gulped. They stayed that way for little more than a moment before the young man entered the shop and sat across from the Giver.
"You didn't lose heart and not come," The Giver stated, his voice level. "Many do you know." The new man looked startled for an instant before making his face firm.
"No way. I need this," The man responded shaking his head. In spite of the man's apparent conviction, the Giver noted that the man was flexing his hands on the edge of the table. "Do you have what I came here for?"
"Yes. My payment?" The Giver replied in the same level tone. He generally did everything he could to avoid connecting with his 'subjects'. Without a word the young man set a stack of twenties on the table. The Giver took them and casually stuffed them into his interior coat pocket. "Give me your hand."
The young man looked uncomfortable for a second before placing his hand on the opposite end of the table. The Giver lifted the man's hand and, with a black marker, began to carefully draw on the back of the hand.
"What are you doing?" The young man asked, concern evident in his voice.
"The symbol acts as a focus for my power, allowing me to grant you the power you asked for," The Giver replied, never ceasing his drawing on the man's hand. "No need to concern yourself; the ink will vanish the moment you receive the powers you have payed a high price for. A careful examination
