Pepi smiled—a rare, genuine thing that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "A fair trade. The instrument is yours. Now, get out of here. I have a customer coming who needs to sell a lie, and I need to buy it."
For decades, Pepi Litman performed these small miracles. He traded in honesty, in burdens lifted, and in second chances. He never got rich; his suits always looked a bit shabby, and his shop always smelled a bit too strong of mothballs. pepi litman