LOE (30s, weary, sharp suit, hollow eyes) sits on a stained mattress. He holds a tarnished pocket watch. His reflection in a cracked mirror shows a faint, horned silhouette behind him.
LOE: You were a demon?
The bell above the door of Novelty Books didn’t jingle so much as it chimed—a soft, depressing sound that matched the gray drizzle outside.
