Deals Breadman Games - Demon

He tipped his cart. Out tumbled not bread, but breaths. Little grey puffs labeled with names. He picked one up, sniffed it like a baguette. “I bake other deals.”

“What do you do with the Tuesdays?”

“Second loaf,” he’d murmur to the gamblers, “keeps the sheriff blind.” And it did. Until the gambler’s own reflection started dealing from the other side of the mirror. demon deals breadman games

“First loaf,” he’d whisper to the hungry housewives, “eases the morning sickness.” And it did. For a week. Then the child was born with teeth like a lamprey’s. He tipped his cart

“Roll a six,” he said, “and I walk into the river. You never see me again. Roll anything else… I get the next seven years of your Tuesdays.” He picked one up, sniffed it like a baguette

It came to rest on .

The breadman came at dusk, his cart a creaking ribcage of old wood. He didn't sell bread. He traded it.