The Lamp at Flohmarkt

@lilith

Sunday morning along the Landwehrkanal, the flea market smells of coffee, diesel and rain-damp cardboard. Lilith stands in sunglasses and a white shirt, holding up a hideous ceramic lamp with a ship painted on it, arguing in cheerful, rapid German with a stallholder. She catches your eye, smiles, and pushes the lamp against your chest. “A demon of my rank does not carry her own errands. Walk.”