I think I just sold my soul…

I think I just sold my soul.

I didn’t mean to. I thought he was joking.

I was sitting in my car outside a grocery store I couldn’t afford to shop in. Engine off. Phone at 2%. Bank account overdrawn. I’d been staring at the same email for ten minutes—“We regret to inform you…”—like maybe the words would rearrange themselves if I waited long enough.

They didn’t.

“Rough day?”

I hadn’t noticed him walk up.

Mid-thirties, maybe. Plain clothes. Nothing memorable about his face, which is strange, because I remember everything else about that moment.

“I’m good,” I said automatically.

He nodded like I’d just confirmed something for him. “Yeah. Most people say that.”

I should’ve ignored him. Rolled the window up. But I didn’t. I just needed to vent to someone before self-destructing.

“I lost my job,” I said. “Rent’s due. I’ve got, like… nothing lined up.”

He leaned against the side of my car like we knew each other. Not in a threatening way. Just… comfortable.

“What would fix it?” he asked.

“Sorry?”

“If you could change something in your life,” he said, “what would it be?”

I let out a short laugh. “Everything.”

“Be specific.”

I don’t know why I answered him.

“Money,” I said. “Stability. Something that doesn’t disappear overnight.”

He nodded again, like he was checking boxes. “How much?”

“Enough,” I said. “Enough to not feel like this.”

He had a serious expression.

“I could take care of that problem for you.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, okay?”

“No, really… but it’ll cost you.”

“Cost me what?”

Silence for a second.

“Your soul,” he said, slowly extending his arm for a handshake.

I was caught completely off guard. I laughed, no longer taking the conversation seriously.

“Okay,” I said. “Sure. Deal. Fix my life, take my soul. Sounds fair.”

I shook his hand, expecting him to laugh too.

He didn’t.

“Deal.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach drop.

He wasn’t dramatic. Just… off.

Then my phone buzzed. I looked down. A deposit notification. I frowned. Opened my banking app. The negative balance was gone. In its place was more money than I’d seen in years.

I looked back up.

He was already walking away, whistling some eerie, unfamiliar tune.

“Hey,” I called. “What the hell is this?”

He didn’t turn around. “Fulfillment,” he said.

Then he was gone.

I told myself it was a mistake. A glitch. Maybe fraud, even. I expected it to disappear by morning.

It didn’t.

If anything, things kept getting better.

Within a week, I had a new job—great pay. Flexible hours. My boss treated me like I’d been there for years.

Bills stopped being a problem. Opportunities just… showed up.

Life was amazing.

But something weird happened.

Some random woman walked up and greeted me while I was pumping gas.

“Good to see you again,” she said, like she knew me.

I frowned. “I’m sorry… I don’t think we’ve met.”

She smiled. “Not like this.”

Her eyes flicked over me, quickly assessing.

“You said the same thing last time.”

She smiled a little wider and stepped past me, close enough that her shoulder brushed mine. And under her breath, she started whistling.

That tune.

I turned to look at her again—

but she was already too far down the street.

Like she’d been walking longer than she should have.

“What… the hell?”

I shrugged it off.

Same thing happened a week after that.

Different place. Different face.

This time, older. A gray-haired man wearing glasses.

I recognized him instantly.

Same calm demeanor.

He sat down across from me at a coffee shop without asking.

“How’s everything going?” he said.

I stared at him. “Who are you?”

He tilted his head. “We’ve already done introductions.”

“No… we haven’t.”

He smiled slightly. “Not formally, no.”

I leaned forward, voice low.

“What did you do?”

He watched me… calm, patient.

“I offered you a solution… you offered me your soul.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, but that’s not possible!”

He smiled faintly, scanning the people in the room.

“You’d be surprised what’s possible when you’re desperate.”

“Most people think it’s a metaphor… the whole ‘soul’ thing.”

I didn’t respond.

“Like it’s some abstract loss of self.”

He looked back at me. “It’s not.”

A long silence stretched between us.

“I want out,” I said, raising my voice.

“No,” he said simply. “You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

He shook his head.

“If you wanted out, you wouldn’t have agreed in the first place.”

“That’s not— I thought you were joking.”

“Everyone does.”

He stood up.

Panic spiked in my chest.

“Wait—what… what happens now?”

He paused.

“Nothing… right away.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

He adjusted his sleeves, grinning as he looked into my eyes.

“Collection happens… when you least expect it.”

He gave me a small, almost sympathetic look.

“Feel better now?” he asked, mockingly.

Then he turned and walked away.

He didn’t even look back.

I stood there, listening to that tune fade into the distance—waiting for the regret to hit.

It never did.