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[Fiction] A Friend's gift


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"Is it Authentic?" The deep rumbling voice asked regarding the item in the steel case.

"Yes sir, as was asked it was certified by seven major experts. May I ask what you're going to do with it?" The small balding man was drenched with sweat, He knew who the voice belonged to, and what its owner could do.

"You may not. This then completes our transaction. Your debt to me is paid, now go, I release you from my service." The small man leaves hurriedly, his mind a mix of terror and relief at his situation.

The voice walks over to the Steel box. "With this, I pay one of my debts as well."

The Pacific sun peeks forth from the horizon, as dawn breaks on another day for Samhra and Singularity on their island Sanctuary. Samhra rises from her bed and makes her way outside, seemingly drawn out by something. On her patio sits a large steel case, with an envelope addressed to her.

She tries to detect a trap, but only a handful of people know where she and Franklin reside. She decides to take a small risk and opens the envelope to reveal a letter, written in kanji, each one made with bold, yet careful strokes.

"Samhra, I came across this many years ago. After a decade, it was still there. The gentleman accepted my offer, and here we are. This book ushered in a new age. It has been certified, and recertified as authentic. I know that you would probably say it belongs in a museum, but it requires some restoration for that. Personally I think the various flaws add character to a book and would see it remain as it is.

Accept this as my wedding gift to you and Singularity. Accept this as my way of thanking you for what you did in Ibiza. Accept this as a gift from a friend.

May Peace and happiness dwell with you and Franklin all your days, My good friends. Ryu Hideyoshi"

Samhra opens the box carefully not really expecting what she finds. Inside wrapped in scarlet silk is a worn an authentic Gutenburg Bible. She gently lifts the book from it's resting place, and carefully turns some of the pages. A single bookmark holds a place at the twenty third Psalm. Samhra reads the centuries old text, lost in the flowing style, and the words of a bygone era. Her copy is perhaps one of a handful still around, a part of her says to close the book and have it restored and donate it to a museum, but she decides against it, thinking He gave this to me as a gift between friends, it would be wrong to leave it in a museum, where it couldn't tell its tale.

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