2025-09-25, 07:30 PM
Chapter One
Dave Bingham looked up at the clock and fought a sigh. 4:42pm. He was sure the day would never end. If someone had asked him, he'd have sworn at least twenty minutes had passed since he'd last glanced at the clock. It had only been three.
His phone rang. “Sunstate Solutions, this is Dave, how can I help you?” he inquired with false cheeriness. He listened while the customer tried to explain how important it was that he print up a vital report and how the printer wasn't working and if it wasn't fixed someone was going to pay. After about five minutes Dave determined that the printer wasn't turned on and instructed the customer how to switch on the power button. The man did so and rather sheepishly hung up the phone.
4:48pm.
*
Dave trudged up the stairs to his apartment, both hands weighed down with plastic bags of groceries from the local FoodMart. He was trying to decide if he'd go for the Salisbury steak or the pasta Alfredo. He'd had shells in sauce the night before, so decided the Salisbury steak would win. He figured he'd lose either way. Microwave dinners left no winners.
As he was walking toward his door there was a flurry of sound and activity up ahead. Cody Martin came tearing up the exterior corridor on his skateboard. The twelve-year-old wasn't supposed to ride it in the breezeway, Dave knew. He'd heard the boy's mother tell him so often enough. Cody was that kind of kid though; not mean-spirited or obstinate, but rambunctious and carefree and not much of one for rules.
Cody and his mother, Lynn, lived three doors down from Dave. They would say hi to each other, but Dave had never allowed it to go beyond that. He barely even acknowledged the boy. Case in point, Cody came a stop at his own door, kicked up his board so that it hopped into his arms as if by magic and gave Dave an enthusiastic wave and a friendly 'hey!' Dave gave the boy a casual nod and fished his keys out of his pocket, ignoring him. Despite Dave's ambivalence, Cody always greeted him warmly. He was that kind of kid.
Unlocking his door, Dave cast a last surreptitious glance at the boy from the corner of his eye. Cody was beautiful, with his shaggy blond hair and gorgeous pubescent features that were just starting to turn more handsome than pretty. Dave imagined the boy must barely be into puberty. He was small yet, slender, but his voice had that timber of a boy who's not quite a child anymore. His legs were practically shooting out of the cuffs of his jeans, speaking of a recent growth spurt. The days he saw Cody were about the best days Dave had, but he knew that way lay trouble, and he avoided contact like the plague.
In his apartment, Dave put away his few groceries and then went to his room to get changed. He ditched the slacks and shirt, putting his tie in a little plastic turning rack in his closet. He didn't understand why they were forced to wear shirts and ties at work when they were never seen by the public, but he figured the powers that be imagined that looking professional meant their employees would act professional. Dave figured that was asking a lot of people who basically worked in a cheap call center.
Seven years before, a suit and tie had been par for the course. He'd been an up and coming attorney; a young hotshot with a fantastic career ahead of him. Then he'd gotten involved with a coworker's thirteen-year-old son. It wasn't something he'd planned. The kid was definitely the aggressor, and Dave found out later he wasn't even the first of the boy's conquests. That was the only thing that kept him out of prison.
The whole thing was quietly swept under the rug, but there were whispers and he'd been blacklisted at every law firm he'd tried to find work at since. The whispers had even followed him all the way south to Georgia. Nobody would touch him. They might not know why, but they knew he was radioactive. So now he spent his days telling morons how to do basic computer troubleshooting. Living the high life.
Dave grabbed shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser and paused in front of the mirror there. He was thirty-three now. His blond hair was beginning to thin a bit on top. He was twenty pounds overweight. Okay, thirty. He grabbed his little pouch belly and lifted it. It jiggled a bit when he released it. On a whim, he pushed his briefs down to mid-thigh. His cock dangled there, about two inches long at the moment, on the slim side. So dangled was probably a bit of wishful thinking. More accurately, it just poked out a bit. He was circumcised and the head was pink among the light brown curls of his pubic hair. He was more a grower than a shower, and he'd get to five-and-a-half inches when hard. Dave often reassured himself that it was technically above the average of five point two inches, but being six-foot one, it seemed smaller than it might have on a smaller guy. He looked down. At least he could still see it. Mostly. He let out the breath he'd been holding and it disappeared from view. Giving it an idle squeeze, he pulled his briefs back into place and pulled on the shirt and shorts.
*
The next day was Saturday. Dave was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to take another day at work. He'd hoped to sleep in, but the rumbling of a skateboard over the pebbled surface of the walkway outside told him that Cody was once again flying in the face of his mother's rules about skating in the corridor. Dave didn't mind. It was pleasant to think of the boy out there, his wheat-colored hair flying behind him, his youthful body working as he sped up and down outside his apartment.
Dave wasn't sure why he liked boys. He'd never been molested or anything like that. He was pretty sure that was just a myth anyway. The world would be full of boylovers if that were the case. In fact he'd had a very happy childhood. His parents had split when he twelve, but it had seemed amicable enough to him and his little sister. They still saw plenty of their dad, and his parents were always nice to each other, never talking bad about the other.
Dave had played around with boys when he was that age, and even later, but he also remembered liking girls. He'd been a very attractive boy, but he'd always been shy around girls. Boys were just easier to understand. As he got older, the other boys outpaced him physically. By the time he was eighteen and graduating high school, he barely looked a day over fourteen. He figured that was probably at least a factor in his attraction to young boys still at the age of thirty-three. That's what he told himself anyway.
He'd dated plenty of women. By twenty-one his body had caught up with his age and he was over six feet tall and in great shape with handsome features and fantastic hair. He was also in law school, with a promising future ahead of him. Still, his relationships with women had always been about sex and companionship, and he'd never had any real romantic feelings for any of them. Even during that time he thought about boys, but it wasn't something he dwelt on, thinking it was just a quirk of his personality.
That was until he'd met Luke. Of course, that had turned out horribly, but being with the boy, caressing his young body, drinking in the sight and smell and feel of him, that small, beautiful cock, his perfect skin... it had changed everything. He'd barely thought of, or even looked at, a woman since then. His obsession now was purely with boys on the cusp of puberty.
It was a dangerous attraction, he knew. He didn't find it at all difficult to control his urges, but the urges were there. As he lay there listening to that skateboard, his cock stiffened, just imagining what young Cody must look like naked, his beautiful young limbs, his delicate little penis. He reached down and grabbed himself.
*
Dave finished dressing in jeans and a polo shirt. He'd cum explosively in the shower, thinking about Cody. It wasn't the first time. He knew it wouldn't be the last. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed out the door. He needed to get out of his apartment for awhile. He wasn't sure where, he just wanted out.
Sadly, Cody was nowhere to be seen. Dave reflected that it was probably for the best. Twenty minutes earlier he'd been furiously stroking his cock while thinking about sliding his lips down the length of the boy's preteen penis. He wasn't sure how he'd have reacted if he'd seen him at that moment. Would the boy be able to see the lust in his eyes?
In the parking lot Dave climbed into his car, a twelve-year-old Toyota Celica, blue except for the passenger door which was white after someone had backed into him in a parking lot. He'd never bothered to have it painted. Frankly, he couldn't afford it.
The seatbelt was tight around the waist. Everything was tight around his waist these days. He didn't like to think about how many pant sizes he'd gone up in recent years. He used to hit the gym at least four times a week. Now it had been at least four years since he'd even set foot in one.
He knew it was the depression. It really did mess with one's head. Losing his career had been a huge blow. Coming to terms with the fact that he'd never be able to be with anyone sexually again was crushing. He was facing a lifetime of solitude and loneliness. He just had no interest in women any longer, and boys were certainly off limits. Sometimes it was all he could do to get out of bed.
Dave just drove. He had the radio on and the windows down. The days were warming nicely. It had been a long, cold winter. Soon it would be summer. He remembered the few times he'd dared go to the apartment complex's pool the previous year. He'd watched Cody, then an eleven-year-old tornado of skinny arms and legs and flashing golden hair, through dark sunglasses, sure every adult there was thinking the same dark thoughts about him.
He drove aimlessly. He had no destination in mind. He lived in one of the more eclectic suburbs of Atlanta, a mix of bohemian creativity and hipster delusion. Finally he found a spot on an interesting street and pulled over and parked. The street was an interesting mix of cafes and shops, most of which would be out of business in the next six months, replaced by an identical shop selling counter-culture dreams.
He sat and had a cup of coffee, watching people in knitted wool caps and thick glasses hunched over iPads or huddled together, sucking on vape pens. He gathered from the conversations he overheard that Trump was the devil and the end was nigh. What did any of that matter when he was facing a lifetime of sadness? He paid for his ridiculously expensive coffee and left.
There were some really nice and interesting murals painted on the buildings in this section of town. Dave found himself just wandering, enjoying the warmth of the day and the creativity of the artists. Eventually he ran out of sidewalk. He decided to go over one block, to see if there was anything to see there on his walk back to his car.
He was disappointed. The main strip he'd just left had all the interesting shops and murals. Along this street were some small law firms, accountants, an older pizza joint, and other anonymous shops. He'd just decided to pass back, figuring that looking at the same murals a second time was better than looking at nothing but the psychic and tarot reader he was passing at the moment.
He went to the corner, planning on turning back to the main strip when he paused. On the corner was a pawn shop. It didn't have the look of a normal pawn shop though. No cheap neon. No musical instruments in the window, or cheap watches. No promises of guns and electronics inside. In fact, while the place was labeled Eastern Promise Pawn, it looked more like an antique store. Some of the items in the windows were fascinating and seemed to be of high quality. Deciding to take a chance at a distraction, he entered.
Dave decided it definitely wasn't your typical pawn shop. Not that he'd been in all that many, but he'd been in a couple, and driven past hundreds more. The place had a quiet feel to it, and smelled of incense and furniture polish. It wasn't open and bright, but though it was crowded with furniture pieces, it didn't feel oppressive. Instead it felt cozy. Everywhere he looked was another fascinating item, from gilt bird cages to exotic masks and statuary in jade and onyx.
He made his way through a somewhat narrow corridor of Eastern style dressing screens and came into an open area. Here were finally the display cases he'd expected, but even here he was surprised. Instead of cheap metal and glass, lit with strips of LED lights, these cases were obviously hand-made, with dark quality wood, lovingly shaped. The items they contained all looked like treasures.
“Hello to you,” said a voice. It was deeply accented.
Dave looked up to see a woman behind one of the counters. He'd have sworn she hadn't been there a moment before and reasoned she must have stepped quietly through the dark curtain behind her which he surmised led to a private back area. The woman was older, perhaps in her late fifties or perhaps even older, yet she had a timeless feel to her. He guessed that she was Chinese, but he was no expert. She was dressed in an Oriental gown. Her hair was still black as pitch and tied up in a bun, which seemed to be held together with two jade chopsticks. Of course, he realized they probably weren't chopsticks, but he wasn't sure what to call them. He wondered if thinking they were chopsticks was racist.
“Uh, hello,” he said. “You have a beautiful shop.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” Then she waved him forward.
Dave stepped closer, eyes going to the shelves in front of her. There were small knives with decorative handles, more of the chopstick things, perhaps actual chopsticks this time, tiny figurines, necklaces, rings and fans. In fact, so many things that he was losing himself trying to take it all in, his eyes feasting on the rich and exotic nature of the items.
Finally, Dave realized he was being rude and he looked up a bit sheepishly. The woman was smiling at him indulgently. To his surprise, she reached forward and lightly patted the back of his hand, which was resting on the glass.
Dave began to yank his hand back, afraid he'd offended her by getting his fingerprints all over the glass, but she gripped his hand before he could pull it away. She had a surprisingly strong grip. Her hand turned, taking his hand in hers. She once again patted the back of his hand with her other, then she held him and searched his eyes.
“You very sad,” she finally said.
Dave wasn't sure what she'd said. Or maybe he didn't understand why she'd said it. “I...” he began.
The woman smiled sadly and shook her head. “So sad,” she said.
Then, with a final squeeze of his hands, she released him. She turned around, looking at a curio cabinet. She opened a door and selected a small wooden box. She looked back over her shoulder and caught Dave's eye. She seemed to think for a moment, then she nodded once and closed the cabinet door.
Turning, the woman placed the small box on the counter in front of Dave. “Is very special,” she said. Dave found himself leaning closer. The woman lifted the lid and pulled it open. Inside was a necklace. The chain was gold, but what drew Dave's eye was the pendant. It was a circle of jade, about the size of a quarter, and within was carved a Chinese character. Of course, Dave had no idea what it meant.
The woman lifted the chain from the box, allowing the pendant to rest against her palm, displaying it to him. Dave couldn't have said why, but he was fascinated.
The woman said, “You buy. Two hundred.”
Dave Bingham looked up at the clock and fought a sigh. 4:42pm. He was sure the day would never end. If someone had asked him, he'd have sworn at least twenty minutes had passed since he'd last glanced at the clock. It had only been three.
His phone rang. “Sunstate Solutions, this is Dave, how can I help you?” he inquired with false cheeriness. He listened while the customer tried to explain how important it was that he print up a vital report and how the printer wasn't working and if it wasn't fixed someone was going to pay. After about five minutes Dave determined that the printer wasn't turned on and instructed the customer how to switch on the power button. The man did so and rather sheepishly hung up the phone.
4:48pm.
*
Dave trudged up the stairs to his apartment, both hands weighed down with plastic bags of groceries from the local FoodMart. He was trying to decide if he'd go for the Salisbury steak or the pasta Alfredo. He'd had shells in sauce the night before, so decided the Salisbury steak would win. He figured he'd lose either way. Microwave dinners left no winners.
As he was walking toward his door there was a flurry of sound and activity up ahead. Cody Martin came tearing up the exterior corridor on his skateboard. The twelve-year-old wasn't supposed to ride it in the breezeway, Dave knew. He'd heard the boy's mother tell him so often enough. Cody was that kind of kid though; not mean-spirited or obstinate, but rambunctious and carefree and not much of one for rules.
Cody and his mother, Lynn, lived three doors down from Dave. They would say hi to each other, but Dave had never allowed it to go beyond that. He barely even acknowledged the boy. Case in point, Cody came a stop at his own door, kicked up his board so that it hopped into his arms as if by magic and gave Dave an enthusiastic wave and a friendly 'hey!' Dave gave the boy a casual nod and fished his keys out of his pocket, ignoring him. Despite Dave's ambivalence, Cody always greeted him warmly. He was that kind of kid.
Unlocking his door, Dave cast a last surreptitious glance at the boy from the corner of his eye. Cody was beautiful, with his shaggy blond hair and gorgeous pubescent features that were just starting to turn more handsome than pretty. Dave imagined the boy must barely be into puberty. He was small yet, slender, but his voice had that timber of a boy who's not quite a child anymore. His legs were practically shooting out of the cuffs of his jeans, speaking of a recent growth spurt. The days he saw Cody were about the best days Dave had, but he knew that way lay trouble, and he avoided contact like the plague.
In his apartment, Dave put away his few groceries and then went to his room to get changed. He ditched the slacks and shirt, putting his tie in a little plastic turning rack in his closet. He didn't understand why they were forced to wear shirts and ties at work when they were never seen by the public, but he figured the powers that be imagined that looking professional meant their employees would act professional. Dave figured that was asking a lot of people who basically worked in a cheap call center.
Seven years before, a suit and tie had been par for the course. He'd been an up and coming attorney; a young hotshot with a fantastic career ahead of him. Then he'd gotten involved with a coworker's thirteen-year-old son. It wasn't something he'd planned. The kid was definitely the aggressor, and Dave found out later he wasn't even the first of the boy's conquests. That was the only thing that kept him out of prison.
The whole thing was quietly swept under the rug, but there were whispers and he'd been blacklisted at every law firm he'd tried to find work at since. The whispers had even followed him all the way south to Georgia. Nobody would touch him. They might not know why, but they knew he was radioactive. So now he spent his days telling morons how to do basic computer troubleshooting. Living the high life.
Dave grabbed shorts and a t-shirt from his dresser and paused in front of the mirror there. He was thirty-three now. His blond hair was beginning to thin a bit on top. He was twenty pounds overweight. Okay, thirty. He grabbed his little pouch belly and lifted it. It jiggled a bit when he released it. On a whim, he pushed his briefs down to mid-thigh. His cock dangled there, about two inches long at the moment, on the slim side. So dangled was probably a bit of wishful thinking. More accurately, it just poked out a bit. He was circumcised and the head was pink among the light brown curls of his pubic hair. He was more a grower than a shower, and he'd get to five-and-a-half inches when hard. Dave often reassured himself that it was technically above the average of five point two inches, but being six-foot one, it seemed smaller than it might have on a smaller guy. He looked down. At least he could still see it. Mostly. He let out the breath he'd been holding and it disappeared from view. Giving it an idle squeeze, he pulled his briefs back into place and pulled on the shirt and shorts.
*
The next day was Saturday. Dave was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to take another day at work. He'd hoped to sleep in, but the rumbling of a skateboard over the pebbled surface of the walkway outside told him that Cody was once again flying in the face of his mother's rules about skating in the corridor. Dave didn't mind. It was pleasant to think of the boy out there, his wheat-colored hair flying behind him, his youthful body working as he sped up and down outside his apartment.
Dave wasn't sure why he liked boys. He'd never been molested or anything like that. He was pretty sure that was just a myth anyway. The world would be full of boylovers if that were the case. In fact he'd had a very happy childhood. His parents had split when he twelve, but it had seemed amicable enough to him and his little sister. They still saw plenty of their dad, and his parents were always nice to each other, never talking bad about the other.
Dave had played around with boys when he was that age, and even later, but he also remembered liking girls. He'd been a very attractive boy, but he'd always been shy around girls. Boys were just easier to understand. As he got older, the other boys outpaced him physically. By the time he was eighteen and graduating high school, he barely looked a day over fourteen. He figured that was probably at least a factor in his attraction to young boys still at the age of thirty-three. That's what he told himself anyway.
He'd dated plenty of women. By twenty-one his body had caught up with his age and he was over six feet tall and in great shape with handsome features and fantastic hair. He was also in law school, with a promising future ahead of him. Still, his relationships with women had always been about sex and companionship, and he'd never had any real romantic feelings for any of them. Even during that time he thought about boys, but it wasn't something he dwelt on, thinking it was just a quirk of his personality.
That was until he'd met Luke. Of course, that had turned out horribly, but being with the boy, caressing his young body, drinking in the sight and smell and feel of him, that small, beautiful cock, his perfect skin... it had changed everything. He'd barely thought of, or even looked at, a woman since then. His obsession now was purely with boys on the cusp of puberty.
It was a dangerous attraction, he knew. He didn't find it at all difficult to control his urges, but the urges were there. As he lay there listening to that skateboard, his cock stiffened, just imagining what young Cody must look like naked, his beautiful young limbs, his delicate little penis. He reached down and grabbed himself.
*
Dave finished dressing in jeans and a polo shirt. He'd cum explosively in the shower, thinking about Cody. It wasn't the first time. He knew it wouldn't be the last. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed out the door. He needed to get out of his apartment for awhile. He wasn't sure where, he just wanted out.
Sadly, Cody was nowhere to be seen. Dave reflected that it was probably for the best. Twenty minutes earlier he'd been furiously stroking his cock while thinking about sliding his lips down the length of the boy's preteen penis. He wasn't sure how he'd have reacted if he'd seen him at that moment. Would the boy be able to see the lust in his eyes?
In the parking lot Dave climbed into his car, a twelve-year-old Toyota Celica, blue except for the passenger door which was white after someone had backed into him in a parking lot. He'd never bothered to have it painted. Frankly, he couldn't afford it.
The seatbelt was tight around the waist. Everything was tight around his waist these days. He didn't like to think about how many pant sizes he'd gone up in recent years. He used to hit the gym at least four times a week. Now it had been at least four years since he'd even set foot in one.
He knew it was the depression. It really did mess with one's head. Losing his career had been a huge blow. Coming to terms with the fact that he'd never be able to be with anyone sexually again was crushing. He was facing a lifetime of solitude and loneliness. He just had no interest in women any longer, and boys were certainly off limits. Sometimes it was all he could do to get out of bed.
Dave just drove. He had the radio on and the windows down. The days were warming nicely. It had been a long, cold winter. Soon it would be summer. He remembered the few times he'd dared go to the apartment complex's pool the previous year. He'd watched Cody, then an eleven-year-old tornado of skinny arms and legs and flashing golden hair, through dark sunglasses, sure every adult there was thinking the same dark thoughts about him.
He drove aimlessly. He had no destination in mind. He lived in one of the more eclectic suburbs of Atlanta, a mix of bohemian creativity and hipster delusion. Finally he found a spot on an interesting street and pulled over and parked. The street was an interesting mix of cafes and shops, most of which would be out of business in the next six months, replaced by an identical shop selling counter-culture dreams.
He sat and had a cup of coffee, watching people in knitted wool caps and thick glasses hunched over iPads or huddled together, sucking on vape pens. He gathered from the conversations he overheard that Trump was the devil and the end was nigh. What did any of that matter when he was facing a lifetime of sadness? He paid for his ridiculously expensive coffee and left.
There were some really nice and interesting murals painted on the buildings in this section of town. Dave found himself just wandering, enjoying the warmth of the day and the creativity of the artists. Eventually he ran out of sidewalk. He decided to go over one block, to see if there was anything to see there on his walk back to his car.
He was disappointed. The main strip he'd just left had all the interesting shops and murals. Along this street were some small law firms, accountants, an older pizza joint, and other anonymous shops. He'd just decided to pass back, figuring that looking at the same murals a second time was better than looking at nothing but the psychic and tarot reader he was passing at the moment.
He went to the corner, planning on turning back to the main strip when he paused. On the corner was a pawn shop. It didn't have the look of a normal pawn shop though. No cheap neon. No musical instruments in the window, or cheap watches. No promises of guns and electronics inside. In fact, while the place was labeled Eastern Promise Pawn, it looked more like an antique store. Some of the items in the windows were fascinating and seemed to be of high quality. Deciding to take a chance at a distraction, he entered.
Dave decided it definitely wasn't your typical pawn shop. Not that he'd been in all that many, but he'd been in a couple, and driven past hundreds more. The place had a quiet feel to it, and smelled of incense and furniture polish. It wasn't open and bright, but though it was crowded with furniture pieces, it didn't feel oppressive. Instead it felt cozy. Everywhere he looked was another fascinating item, from gilt bird cages to exotic masks and statuary in jade and onyx.
He made his way through a somewhat narrow corridor of Eastern style dressing screens and came into an open area. Here were finally the display cases he'd expected, but even here he was surprised. Instead of cheap metal and glass, lit with strips of LED lights, these cases were obviously hand-made, with dark quality wood, lovingly shaped. The items they contained all looked like treasures.
“Hello to you,” said a voice. It was deeply accented.
Dave looked up to see a woman behind one of the counters. He'd have sworn she hadn't been there a moment before and reasoned she must have stepped quietly through the dark curtain behind her which he surmised led to a private back area. The woman was older, perhaps in her late fifties or perhaps even older, yet she had a timeless feel to her. He guessed that she was Chinese, but he was no expert. She was dressed in an Oriental gown. Her hair was still black as pitch and tied up in a bun, which seemed to be held together with two jade chopsticks. Of course, he realized they probably weren't chopsticks, but he wasn't sure what to call them. He wondered if thinking they were chopsticks was racist.
“Uh, hello,” he said. “You have a beautiful shop.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” Then she waved him forward.
Dave stepped closer, eyes going to the shelves in front of her. There were small knives with decorative handles, more of the chopstick things, perhaps actual chopsticks this time, tiny figurines, necklaces, rings and fans. In fact, so many things that he was losing himself trying to take it all in, his eyes feasting on the rich and exotic nature of the items.
Finally, Dave realized he was being rude and he looked up a bit sheepishly. The woman was smiling at him indulgently. To his surprise, she reached forward and lightly patted the back of his hand, which was resting on the glass.
Dave began to yank his hand back, afraid he'd offended her by getting his fingerprints all over the glass, but she gripped his hand before he could pull it away. She had a surprisingly strong grip. Her hand turned, taking his hand in hers. She once again patted the back of his hand with her other, then she held him and searched his eyes.
“You very sad,” she finally said.
Dave wasn't sure what she'd said. Or maybe he didn't understand why she'd said it. “I...” he began.
The woman smiled sadly and shook her head. “So sad,” she said.
Then, with a final squeeze of his hands, she released him. She turned around, looking at a curio cabinet. She opened a door and selected a small wooden box. She looked back over her shoulder and caught Dave's eye. She seemed to think for a moment, then she nodded once and closed the cabinet door.
Turning, the woman placed the small box on the counter in front of Dave. “Is very special,” she said. Dave found himself leaning closer. The woman lifted the lid and pulled it open. Inside was a necklace. The chain was gold, but what drew Dave's eye was the pendant. It was a circle of jade, about the size of a quarter, and within was carved a Chinese character. Of course, Dave had no idea what it meant.
The woman lifted the chain from the box, allowing the pendant to rest against her palm, displaying it to him. Dave couldn't have said why, but he was fascinated.
The woman said, “You buy. Two hundred.”