Don't offer them anything and you'll misplace car keys or lose morning papers. Suss out missing socks, and you'll pay more. The kobaloi always get their due.
I once counted the baker's dozen. I password-protected documents. Then I came home to find my wife gone. I discovered a button from her blouse, a broken high heel, a lock of her hair. And I thought I heard a laugh echo through that empty house, plangent, piercing and cold.
I've stopped updating my antivirus software. I scatter change on the kitchen counter. The kobaloi can have what they want.
Anything at all.
Kobaloi by I Saw Lightning Fall
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