She woke up in her own bed with two smudges of dark soot, one on her face and one on her pillow case. The Devil was in the kitchen frying up some bacon. Without thinking, she reached her hand to her throat and then down to her chest.
She wasn’t actually sure where the soul was situated or even if the Devil would take it from her immediately, and, even if he did, if there’d be some outward sign of it.
He came back into the bedroom, clicking the tongs in his left hand.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I could eat.”