The little girl,
clad in white and innocence,
asked the man in a crimson suit.
His fedora hat hid his horns,
and his crystal-like sunglasses
hid his true intent.
He had taken a liking to the child,
and though he knew himself evil,
he couldn’t help but be untrue to his own nature
whenever the little girl was around.
As you see, the girl was dying.
There were no signs, save for what the doctors knew.
Only she, her parents,
and their family physician knew of her fate.
The devil had an inkling of it,
yet still he believed
the little girl would one day be cured.
And one day,
the devil had to go away
for a few days or two.
He told the girl of his expedition.
The girl couldn’t hide her tears,
and so she quickly gave the devil a hug.
She tucked her face behind him.
She believed he didn’t notice.
But so it is with the devil in the details—
the devil knew even the smallest ones.
“I’ll return,
I promise,”
the devil told her.
“You do?”
asked the girl.
The devil nodded,
as though an oath
came into existence.
“And you’ll come visit me every day, alright?”
the little girl continued.
“Yes, every day.
I promise you.
I’ll come visit you,
every day,
until you get better, alright?—”
“Or until I go to heaven,”
said the little girl.
“Heaven?”
the devil murmured.
“Do you believe in heaven?”
the little girl asked.
With a heavy breath,
and a sigh from deep within,
the devil—
for the first time—
lied to the one he cherished.
“Yes.
Yes, I do.”
The little girl wiped her tears,
gave the devil butterfly kisses,
and waved goodbye
as a sign of sending him off.
Time froze
for that one moment.
The devil couldn’t believe himself.
He had lied both to the little girl
and to himself.
And both sins,
to him,
were just as heavy.
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