“I make deals,” he said.

I don't think I could ever forget the look in his eyes. Lawrence had been coming to my shop since I opened it. Before I had the vendor lines set in stone and before the 5-star reviews started coming in; he was there.

He would come in around half past 6, Monday through Friday, and order his coffee. When I expanded the menu he would order a bagel and every so often he wanted something cold.

Regular was an understatement, Lawrence was loyal to a fault. He didn’t want to invest in the shop, and he didn’t want money or recognition.

“I don’t want you to retire.” A cocky half-smirk had graced his face.

If we are telling the story honestly, I laughed. The expression lit up his face and I nearly blushed. But the longer I looked at him, the funnier I found the whole conversation. I laughed so hard that he chuckled in turn.

“I don’t ever want you to retire,” he had said when I caught my breath again.

What we don’t realize about the universe we live in is that extraordinary people look exactly like the ordinary ones. They have dark brown hair and murky hazel eyes. They come in for coffee and quietly read their paperback books. They never hint at what may lay beneath the surface if they don’t have a reason to.

The monsters lay in the shadows and the heroes hide in plain and sight, and while Lawrence was neither he played by the same set of rules. I don’t know exactly how he knew, but I had been getting ready to retire that next summer. I was getting older and I was getting tired. I wasn’t sure I wanted to run the dim little shop for the rest of my short, human, life when it was all I had ever known.

He had held his hand out to me that day, waiting for me to seal the deal. Shake his hand and take him up on an offer I didn’t understand.

“How?” I asked him. One little word was my entire response to an offer of immortality if I can make you believe it.

His lips curled upward, scanning my face for some sign he needed to proceed.

“I told you, I make deals. I have made deals with angels and demons, and I have life to spare.”

I won’t lie to you. I hemmed and hawed, and ended up sitting at a table in my own shop late into the night. I asked a lot of unimportant questions that skirted the real issues. His face held an expression of amusement the entire night, showing no signs of impatience or tiredness.

It was in the early morning hours of the next day that he reached his hand out once more. My heart beat in my chest with fear and anticipation. I reached my own hand into his, clamping down on his cool skin with a small lump in my throat. I watched our hands move up and then down again, and even as his fingers relaxed around my hand, I stayed clamped down.

I felt like I had known Lawrence most of my life and was looking at a completely different version of him. I had watched him sit at his table in the corner for many years and never known the most important details about him or his life.

At the end- I guess it's similar to most relationships people have. We think of strangers as friends because we are used to seeing their faces.

This was the night I realized I knew nothing. I knew nothing about him, and nothing about the people around me. He had lifted the veil and changed my entire life.

It’s been 150 years since then, and I can still remember his face. I remember every smirk he made that night, and every word he said. He had delayed my retirement, and opened my eyes, and made me so much more aware than I ever knew I wanted to be.

Some days- I get sad I missed a normal life. Others, I look back and remember the night we had made our deal.

My hand squeezing his long after he had finished the handshake. He had smiled broadly, looking at my face with an eyebrow raised. “Welcome to my world, Samantha.”

My heart had never beat so hard against my chest. I didn’t know much about him, but I knew I was ready to spend eternity seeing that smile every day.