Everything comes with a cost.
Sometimes it’s nothing much. The bill is paid willingly with a simple gesture or a pittance that exacts no great effort.
The best things… well those are the things that devour your world. The cost is onerous. It is excised by a paper thin knife honed to a brilliant edge laying open sinew and bone while the payment is lapped up in excruciating measures of blood, self and soul.
Yes I still want it. I’d like to charge it if you don’t mind. The percentage of interest is a delicious insult added to the injury and I’ll pay the bill in full, time after time.