The stranger folded his black umbrella shut; hanging it on his arm upside-down, like a pet bat. Doreen, who had been alerted by the shop bell’s ring and the swoosh of the umbrella, came rushing up from behind the counter, awaiting the sound of breaking china at the stranger’s carelessness. Realizing the danger had passed, she struggled to slap on a professional front, pushing aside the thoughts of her earlier visit to the hospital. It was a difficult thing for Doreen as she remembered Lilly’s emaciated form in the hospital bed. Even here, in the antique shop she could still feel Lilly’s eyes staring vacantly at her.

"Don’t you care about yourself?" Doreen had shouted at her daughter. "You have to want to get better, the doctors say so. You don’t need them, Lilly--you’re just letting it get to you! Don’t be so weak!"

The EmoDoctor had come in at just that moment and taken Doreen aside.

Stop being so critical, she had been told. Your daughter thinks you don’t love her, the EmoDoctor had issued his diagnosis. But what did they know? Doreen fumed. Nothing. These modern doctors talked of treating the "mind" along with the body--as if anyone could understand what another person thought or felt. Modern medicine was a sham, Doreen had already decided. The only thing she could be thankful for was that along with the emotional analysis EmoDoctors supposedly performed, they also issued conventional medical treatments. It was the medicine Doreen was laying her money on-- lots of money. The medicines for arterio steria were expensive.

With that last thought, Doreen buried the vestiges of her day behind a merchant’s welcoming smile and reminded herself not to look too hungry at the prospect of a sale on such a dreary day. Then, she paused to examine the newcomer who had stumbled into her shop.

The customer raised his eyes from the puddle on the floor to look around the antique shop. Doreen noticed the eyes first. They were gray--flat and lifeless--and the skin around the eyes was a bruised purple. Doreen shivered and carefully retraced her steps back behind the counter. If death had a face, she reasoned, it wouldn’t be too different from this man’s face--if he was a man, that is. Since Earth had opened its world to alien tourism, it was anyone’s guess as to who or what would come in one’s shop next.

"Can I help you?" Doreen asked.

The man cleared his throat, making rumbling noises before the words forced themselves out. "I’m looking for old things--worn things," he gasped.

"Well, an antique shop is a good place to start," Doreen’s arm swept out spanning the length of her shop, "but I doubt you’ll find anything that’s worn out. I only take antiques in excellent condition."

Again the choking noises as the man struggled to talk: "No--not worn out--I want articles that have been worn on the human body."

"Jewelry?"

Less rumblings this time: "Maybe."

"Victorian items? Disco jackets, Nike tennis shoes?"

The man’s voice now slipped out smoothly: "I’m not sure. Do you think you could get me O.J. Simpson’s Brunno Mali shoes?"

Doreen tried not show her annoyance. It wasn’t going to be a sale; it was going to be a waste of time. Everyone knew items from the infamous twentieth century trial were few and impossible to find. Where were the paying customers when you needed them? Doreen asked herself. "Feel free to look," she said and then added in sarcasm, "just don’t touch."

"What? I can’t be sure I want it if I don’t touch it."

Doreen pointed to the signs pasted around her shop. They read: "You break it, you buy it."

"Look," the man reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash, "I think you misunderstand me. I’m ready to buy, I just don’t know what."

The cash fanned Doreen’s enthusiasm as she pictured the numerous vials of medicine the cash could buy. She consciously made the decision to ignore the man’s obvious other-worldly appearance as she came back around the counter again. She estimated there had to be at least a thousand dollars there in twenty dollar bills.

"We prefer e-cash," Doreen said warily.

"Too traceable," Death-man answered, "I’ll pay ten percent more for the privilege of using cash. My species requests total anonymity in its business dealings."

"Why?"

"I’m a Zebulite. I am known as Druid. My planet, Zebulon, hasn’t been registered with the Agency for Off-World Tourism, yet. You know how long that takes."

Doreen nodded and smiled amicably, all the while thinking it was too short a time for her tastes.

"Anyway, I’ll buy exclusively from you, if you keep my presence here confidential."

Doreen looked at the money and back at Druid.

"Shake?" Druid extended his hands toward her.

Doreen shook hands, trying not to show her distaste at the pulpy feel of his grip.

"What are you looking for? If I don’t have it, I can probably find it for you later. " Doreen asked.

Druid ignored her suggestion and instead reached in his pocket to take out a plastic casing from his breast pocket. It was the size of a pen case. Springing the lock, he placed it on the counter and pulled out a single white glove. As he pulled it onto his right hand, it quivered and molded itself to his hand, letting out a sharp slurp as if it had been vacuum-sealed to perfection.

"I told you," Druid explained. "I have to touch the items before I can tell if they are suitable."

Doreen nodded and nudged him with her eyes towards the back of the shop. As soon as Druid’s back faced her, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. This had better be a sale, she told herself. She was getting sick of alien fetishes.

Druid walked over to the glass case that contained the antique jewelry. Diamonds, rubies and cubic zirconia twinkled in front of him.

"Can I?" Druid asked Doreen motioning to the case.

"Let me get that for you," Doreen answered congenially.

Doreen’s weathered hand reached into the case, hesitating for a moment, and plucked a small diamond ring from the dark velvet.

Once on the counter, Druid poked at the ring with his gloved hand, as if afraid to touch it. It failed this mysterious test.

"Too hot," he explained to Doreen. "It may be antique, but it belonged to someone before it came to your shop."

Blanching slightly, Doreen admitted the truth: "It was mine. My grandmother gave it to me. It was to be passed down from daughter to daughter..."

Doreen caught her breath sharply, her hand rising to purse her lips and silence them.

"Oh?" The alien’s eyes flashed on her face intently, his eyes widening in interest.

Doreen fought the impulse to unburden herself as she blinked the tears back into their ducts.

Druid’s eyes dropped politely. He said: "Keep it. You might have a daughter some time."

"I already have one," Doreen’s voice cracked. "She’s sick--dying the Emodoctors say."

"What do doctors know, right?" Druid pointed at the ring. "Keep it. It’s thoughtful of you to sacrifice a family heirloom for the sake of your daughter--but, really--she might get better."

Doreen blushed and stammered: "You’re right. I should keep it." She took the ring and place it on her index finger. She ignored it from then on as she pulled out another ring saying: "Besides, I have other rings."

The ruby ring was next. It passed the poke test. Soon Druid was cradling it in his hand, his eyes closed as he savored the vintage.

"Mmmmm...." Druid exclaimed," very nice. Warm and golden. It will make a good touch amulet."

Whatever, Doreen thought as Druid went on to inspect the rest of the rings. She really didn’t care what the alien bought or why. What mattered was that she made money, and the ruby ring was one of her more expensive items. She couldn’t wait to see what else met with his approval. Soon, several more rings (cubic zirconias this time) had passed the test as well. Doreen began to like the idea of Druid as her customer as she thought of all his money coming to her. It would be enough to pay for her daughter’s medicines for quite a while.

"Anything else?" Doreen asked Druid as six rings were lined up for purchase.

"Let me look around," Druid replied. "May I touch?"

"Help yourself," Doreen answered as she followed close behind him. "Let me know what interests you and I can tell you what I know about the piece."

Druid ignored her again as he ambled through the antique shop, fondling all of her merchandise. Eventually he came upon a quilt, hung up on the wall. At first Doreen couldn’t understand Druid’s reaction to various items around the shop. He would cradle them in his hands as his body jerked slightly. His breath became shallow rasps as he shut his eyes briefly before opening them wide. However, when Druid spotted the quilt hanging on the wall in the back, it became clear to her that he found them stimulating in some fashion. Druid had put his larvae-like hands on the quilt stroking it repeatedly. As Druid’s ecstasy mounted Doreen turned away, too embarrassed to watch further.

"Just like Purple Mist," she thought, marveling at Druid’s reaction as she remembered her own earlier dependency. "Thank God that part of my life is over. If Lilly’s father hadn’t started me on it and then left so suddenly I probably wouldn’t have gotten as hooked as I did." Doreen sighed. It was too easy to blame someone else for her own problems. She still found herself doing it. It was when she had taken responsibility for herself that she had overcome her addiction. One had to be strong in this world, Doreen had learned. You could lean on no one or nothing to support you when troubles came. She had hoped to bring her daughter up to understand that, but instead she had failed. Lilly was a weak, dependent child that craved attention. It was hard for Doreen to accept, but some things just came with the genes, unfortunately.

Doreen had observed Druid fingering the quilt, wondering what characteristic of the cloth the alien found stimulating to his skin. Druid finally noticed her watching him and had dropped his hands quickly. His gray eyes had heated to a bright yellow during the contact, but he refused to show any further reaction.

"How much?" Druid asked.

"More than you have on you," Doreen answered carefully. "We do take e-cash."

"No. Hold it for me," Druid said, making up his mind and handing the stash of bills over to her. "Consider it a downpayment. I’ll be back with the balance in a week."

"Will you be visiting me regularly then?" Doreen asked, hopefully.

"Every week, I’ll be by. Until then, I need more of the same type of touch amulets. Here..." Druid took out another case identical to the first which held the glove he still had on, "use this to decide what will be valuable to me when I next visit. If the object is burning hot, leave it; it could be dangerous. If you can hold it in your hand and it is warm and toasty, acquire it. If it is very, very cold--more so than an ice cube--then that also is valuable to me. However, I pay more for the warm pieces."

Doreen looked at the case Druid offered her.

"Of course there’s a small fee for the rental. A dollar here or there," Druid shrugged, "but I would be your best customer."

"I don’t know..." Doreen replied. "What does it do?"

"Try it," Druid urged her, "it’s just a sensitizer. It’s not harmful, see?" Druid peeled his glove off and showed off his glow-worm hands: "Nothing different."

Is it addictive? Doreen wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She needed the money for Lilly. Besides, she was strong now. She had pulled herself out of her dependency on Purple Mist single-handedly. She could risk a little for Lilly.

Doreen took the glove case from Druid and packed up his antiques for him. She put the case behind the counter and left it there, uncertain if she would try it or not. It stayed there for two days, where Doreen found it again. It had been there out of sight. Of course, it had never completely left her mind.

She had flea markets to go to and other dealer’s to visit. What would she pick up for Druid? She couldn’t let such a good customer down. She took the glove out and fitted it loosely over her right hand. Hungrily, it grew into her like a second skin; she couldn’t even tell she had something on. Shrugging, she pulled the new stash of rings and placed them one at a time in front of her. Poking them delicately, all but two failed the initial test. Druid had been right, of course, the hot one’s weren’t just hot--they were torches. Of those that had passed this test, one was warm, the other overwhelmingly cold. She cupped the warm one in her right hand and closed her eyes, waiting.

The drug rush never came. Instead, she felt the warmth spread through her fingers one by one. The sensation pushed its way past her elbows down her chest and hit her heart. From there it radiated outwards until her body felt light and buoyant. Doreen couldn’t remember the last time she had felt that way. And then she remembered: it was the day she had fallen in love with Lilly’s father. She laughed at the revelation and bounced around her antique shop, touching and hugging the bridal gowns, hats and corsets she had within her shop. Then she remembered the cold ring.

Picking it up she cuddled it in her hand and waited. Fear flashed through her mind as her body trembled at the suddenness of its appearance. Her heart raced and veins pulsed with adrenaline as she felt the fear blacken her sight. It choked her and her hands came to her throat trying to catch her breath. Gasping, she wrenched the ring from her finger and flung it to the floor. As she panted her relief, the fear subsiding, she realized what Druid was after: emotion. The touch amulets conveyed the emotions of their departed owners. No doubt, the last ring, had been on the hand of a murdered or violated woman. The thought shocked her, but at last she understood.

The rest of the day she spent gathering the items that she thought Druid would want most. Now and then, she let her gloved hand drift carelessly over a pair of high-heeled shoes or a corset and felt the ecstasy of its owners in the heat of passion. Doreen liked the feeling, especially because she knew that once she took the glove off it would all end. There were no artificial drugs interacting on her system; it was a natural and carefree voyeurism.

Druid came every week and bought what she had for him. She took the money and spent it on Lilly. Lilly was getting worse. Her EmoDoctor had despaired of ever curing her. Whatever it is, the EmoDoctor had said, she needs something she isn’t getting. It was frustrating for Doreen to admit defeat. She was a strong person. Why couldn’t her daughter be that way too? Her daughter’s death loomed near and there was little to be proud of in her life, Doreen thought. The only happiness she had found was in an alien’s glove, and even that was short-lived.

"Do you like the glove?" Druid asked her one day.

Doreen looked up, aware that he was eyeing her coolly. "It’s okay," she replied.

"Your eyes have a yellow tint to them," Druid remarked casually. "That happens when you use the glove too much."

"You’re a good customer," Doreen said, brushing a blonde hair nervously from her face. "I want to make sure you’re happy."

"Are you happy?" Druid asked.

For a moment Doreen thought she saw a sneer cross the ugly alien’s face. She had to be imagining it, she thought. The man had no emotions except the ones he stole from dead people.

"Happiness doesn’t pay the rent," Doreen hinted. "I need cash for that."

"Oh--yes, I understand," Druid said reaching into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash. He peeled off two bills and laid them on the counter.

"Druid, these things cost twice as much. Did I mislead you somewhere?"
Doreen asked confused.

"No, I just took out some spare change for the rental of the glove."

"What?!"

"Well, I mentioned it before. Don’t you remember?"

Doreen stared at Druid infuriated.

"I need the money," she begged him. "That’s too much for a rental."

"The more you use it, the more I charge." Druid explained. "Your eyes tell me you’ve used it a lot."

"That’s not fair!" Doreen argued. "You didn’t tell me exactly how much this would cost."

"You’re not being fair! I can’t let you use it up for nothing," Druid pointed out. "If you don’t want to deal fairly, give me back the glove. I’ll take my business elsewhere."

"No---no. You can’t do that," Doreen felt the bile rising in her throat, disgusted with herself but unable to change things now. "Take the antiques. It’s enough."

The alien smiled a tight, self-satisfied smile as he picked up his touch amulets and departed. Doreen closed the shop and went up to her room. Underneath her bed she had stored the sensitizer glove. She opened the case, pulled it out, put it on and let it bond with her skin. Then she lay on her antique quilt, face-down, oblivious to the rest of the world.

The day finally came when the EmoDoctor told her to take Lilly home.

"Is it the money?" Doreen asked guiltily, ignoring the EmoDoctors explanation that Lilly was resisting the treatment. "I can get more--just give me some time. I’ll pay you back."

"The medicine won’t cure her," the EmoDoctor emphasized. "Even with all the money in the world, she has to want to get better."

"It’s not true," Doreen had argued, "she’s alive. Keep her alive and maybe a cure will come someday."

"We can keep treating her if you want," the EmoDoctor nodded, "however, you’re behind in the bills. Is there nothing you can sell? The hospital won’t allow me to "donate" medicines--even for a worthy cause."

Doreen blanched as she realized the truth in his statements. She just had to get Druid to pay her what they initially agreed upon. "I’ll get it." She had insisted as she walked out of the doctor’s office.

"I’ll give you two weeks before the hospital releases her to your care," the EmoDoctor had called after her. "Good luck!"

What did she have to trade with? Doreen asked herself. If only she hadn’t put on that damn glove. Maybe, Doreen thought, if Druid knew why she needed the money he would let her use the glove and pay him back later? She didn’t know, but she had few choices. She went back to work, gathering as many collectibles as she could find that would interest Druid. Two days later, Druid returned.

"You’ve been working hard," Druid noted as he reviewed the pile of antiques awaiting him. Doreen stood next to them, her eyes swollen from crying, her hair unbrushed.

"I need the money," Doreen appealed to him. "My daughter’s sicker. There’s a medicine that keeps her alive, but it’s very expensive."

"Oh?" Druid didn’t notice her anguish. Instead he picked up a gangster’s hat and stroked the rim with his gloved hand.

"Please, Druid," Doreen reached for Druid’s hand trying to get his attention and sympathy, "pay me what the merchandise is worth. I can’t afford money for glove rentals, usage or anything right now."

"Give me back the glove and I won’t charge you anything," Druid replied calmly.

"You know I can’t," Doreen’s said softly hating the words that were being forced from her.

"Really? Why’s that?"

"You’ve hooked me--you bastard! That’s why!" Doreen pummeled him in just anger as the tears began to splatter steamily to the floor.

Druid dropped the hat and abruptly grasped her wrists. He forced her to her knees with sheer strength.

"Listen, you weak human," Druid’s words sliced through Doreen’s hopes, "I don’t care about your daughter or even you for that matter. I want my merchandise. This is a business deal. If you don’t like it, I can take my business elsewhere."

"But you don’t pay me enough!" Doreen tried to wrestle her hands free. "You don’t understand! I can’t give these items away! Every time you pay me less and less."
Druid released Doreen.

"Give me the glove," he demanded. "You seem to be suggesting that I deliberately gave you the glove to tie you to its usage! It’s not my fault you humans are debilitated by emotions. I did you a favor! You needed money for your daughter and I’ve bought many, many items from your store. Why, I’m your best customer! But, I won’t stand here and be accused of being some sort of narcotics dealer! I’m taking my business elsewhere."

"NO!" Doreen crumpled to the floor, understanding the setup clearly. He’s done this before, Doreen told herself. How come I didn’t see it? It’s too late now, she thought, she had to please this man in whatever way she could. "Please don’t do that. I want to do business with you--really I do! I just need more money! Isn’t there anything you want that you will pay me more for?"

Druid looked at the merchandise and then at Doreen.

Doreen looked back up at him realizing it was too late to take her offer back.

"There is one thing I’ve been meaning to try now that I am visiting Earth," Druid said as his gray eyes coveted her.

"Me?" Doreen asked pathetically, hoping she was wrong.

"Are you kidding?" Druid sneered at her. "I don’t want to personally try you out. I want to watch. I’ll pay you well this time."

Doreen gulped as she mouthed her agreement: "In advance, this time."

She should have stayed on Purple Mist, Doreen decided afterwards. The glove was a much harder trip.

The money she got from Druid lasted only three months and soon Druid tired of his new game. He was in business, he had told Doreen, to make money--not to spend it. Her pleas were pushed aside as he continued to give her only a portion of what her antiques were worth. Eventually, even that money didn’t cover Lilly’s expenses. The dreaded day arrived and Lilly was sent home.

Doreen placed Lilly in her room, on her bed, the widest and most comfortable room in the house. From there, Lilly could have seen out the window to the park outside, if she had been awake. Instead, she lay dozing most of the day, drifting in and out of consciousness, while Doreen watched her.

"Don’t worry, honey" Doreen stroked Lilly’s matted hair as she slept. "I won’t let you die alone."

Saying that, she checked the nightstand for the bottles of sleeping pills she had stored up. They were to be her release after Lilly passed away. They were also her freedom from Druid. He would be chagrined to find out his victim had stepped out on him. All Doreen was waiting for now was for her daughter to go first.

Late in the evening the store bell rang downstairs; someone walking in her shop. Doreen thought she had locked the doors, after she had decided not to open that day.

"We’re closed!" Doreen called down to the unseen guest.

"I don’t think so," a voice crumpled the night air, "I came for more amulets today. I’m not coming back tomorrow."

"Druid!" Doreen whispered to herself, hating the mention of his name. She pushed the quilt up around her daughter’s neck and stroked her face. Lilly opened her eyes and groaned slightly. "Stay here, I’ll get rid of him, honey."

Doreen reached under the bed and found the glove case. She prepared to take it downstairs, hoping to fling it in the alien’s face, and then stopped. I’ll be dead anyway soon, Doreen thought, no reason to let him have the glove back at all.

"Doreen!"

Doreen heard his footsteps on the stairs outside her apartment. She flung the case away from her and hurried to meet him. He thinks he owns me, she fumed at his arrogance. He thinks he can just walk in and take whatever he wants! And I let him! No more!

"Get out of here, you devil!" Doreen opened the door to the stairwell as she blasted curses at him. "I don’t want you coming around here anymore!"
Druid pushed the door open, knocking Doreen to the side. He remained calm, as always.

"You can’t tell me what to do!" Druid pointed out. "I own you."
Doreen shrieked: "I’m not your slave! You get out of here before I call the police."
Druid laughed mechanically: "I’ll tell them you stole my glove and my money."

"You want your glove?! You serpent! You lizard! YOU can have it!"

Doreen went back to her room and stopped, slapped by the scene in front of her. Her last moment of pride had been viciously chiseled out from her as she saw Lilly, glove on hand, cuddling her mother’s pillow to herself.

"It’s hot, Momma," Lilly laughed a yellow tint to her eyes. "It’s really hot!"

"You humans are so weak," Druid stepped up behind Doreen watching Lilly toy with her mother’s pillow. "That’s why Zebulites got rid of their emotions long ago. Now we only use them for entertainment."

"Get that off your hand!" Doreen cried, tears of shame bursting from her.

The glove glowed incandescently as Lilly continued to cradle the pillow. "No, Momma, you don’t understand--it’s very hot! I feel it. I’m not cold anymore."

"It’ll burn her if she doesn’t take it off," Druid told Doreen. "She’s linking telepathically to a live person right now. The force of the emotional overload will blast her and I don’t want my merchandise damaged."
Lilly looked at Druid, who stood behind Doreen. Her arms exhibited a red rash as the gloves began to overload. "Who is he Momma? Is he an EmoDoctor? Is he the one that gave me this medicine?"

"Medicine?" Doreen echoed in confusion. A sliver of hope pierced the blackness of Doreen’s heart. Isn’t that what drugs were initially for?

"Yes, Momma," Lilly smiled brightly, a flush of life appearing on her cheeks as the glove’s heat pierced her cheeks. "When I hug this pillow I feel your love. You DO love me. I remind you of yourself when you were my age. You wanted me to avoid the same problems you had. You wanted me to be strong without anyone, even you--but I do need you. I need your love and, now that I know it’s there, I can live."

Doreen clasped her hands to her face and laughed as the tears streamed down her face. She laughed and laughed. She pulled the glove from Lilly’s hand and threw it at Druid. It dropped to the floor in front of him. Druid picked it up hastily and scowled at Doreen.

"You’ll regret it. You’ll be calling me again soon and I won’t be as gracious," Druid said as he put the glove in his pocket. "The glove is no ordinary drug. The crash is hellish beyond any standards."

"Leave." Doreen answered. She had overcome Purple Mist single-handedly, but she knew Druid wasn’t lying. A drug powerful enough to heal the spirit could crush it as well. However, this time Doreen decided she would ask for help. She would never go it alone again. She had Lilly and Lilly had her. The glove had done its job. She bit her lip and pursed them before letting the warmth of her love escape in a confused smile. Awkwardly, she sat down on the bed and stretched out her arms questioningly. Lilly nodded and they came together in the a moment of understanding which spoken words could never bring about.

The next morning Doreen called the Agency for Off-World Tourism to report the character known as Druid.