"Hey, mister, want a pocketful of time?" the girl asked cheerfully.

The man, a respectable middle aged gentleman, narrowed his eyes and hmmed thoughtfully. This was the first time anyone had offered to sell him time, and ,strictly speaking, he had no idea what that was.

"Time, you say?" He forced a polite smile, trying to hide his confusion. Maybe it was some new product he hadn't heard of? Energy drinks nowadays came with all sorts of names. Or could it be... he gasped. Was she trying to sell him an illegal substance? 

"You know"—the girl laughed and took out a handful of light from her pocket—"Time. Reds are years, yellows are months, and greens are weeks."

The man scratched his head. This was most peculiar. Carefully, he removed his spectacles, took his handkerchief out, and rubbed his eyes. Surely he had to be mistaken. One couldn't keep light in one's pocket. It had to be his imagination, the roast he had had yesterday evening, or maybe the result of stress? 

[i]Yes, that should be it.[/i] The man nodded to himself, then put the handkerchief away. Yet, the pieces of light were still there, sparkling in the girl's hand. They looked like jelly beans, if one could make light in the kitchen, that is.

"Come on, they're fresh!" The girl insisted. "Picked them myself from the sky this morning."

"From the sky?" This was too much. The man scratched his head, then cautiously bent down to get a better look, until his nose was almost touching them.

"You get the best ones from the sky," the girl explained. "Some get them from clouds or mountains, but not me!" She seemed extremely proud of the fact.

"Err, hmm." The man straightened up again. He had no idea what to do. Should he buy one? Should he buy them all? He could put one of those in a jar and show it to his friends. That would be a laugh. Or he could take it home. His wife was always complaining that it was too dark in the cellar, and the twins would love to play with them. Were they safe, though? "What exactly does time do?"

"You don't know?" The girl looked at him with such sadness that the man instantly felt uncomfortable. "They heal."

"Heal?" He asked, arching a brow.

"Yes. Time heals. Here, let me show you." Before the man could protest, the girl took a yellow light and put it on the scar of the back of his hand. It was an extremely annoying scar, he had received a week ago while fixing the car.

As the light touched his skin, it melted away vanishing from sight. Moments later the scar was gone.

"My word!" The man managed to say. "This is remarkable." Actually, he wanted to say Impossible, but manners prevented him from doing so. Surely this had to be a trick. There was no other explanation. Slowly, he slid his fingers along the back of his hand. No trick, no scar, and even less of an explanation. "And I could heal everything with time?"

"Most things." The girl nodded. "Wounds, aches, grey hairs. Not sadness, though."

"Grey hairs?" Now this was intriguing. The man had been starting to fret about grey hairs the last few years. It would be nice to get rid of them with this time thing. And if it worked on that he could try it on a few spots where his hair was getting thin. "Right!" He reached for his wallet. This definitely seemed quite the stroke of luck. He had to keep it quiet, though. If the neighbors found out they'd want some too. "How much?"

"Just a smile," the girl replied.

"A smile?" The man felt uneasy again. "You're giving me all this just for a smile?"

"That's the easiest way to get a smile," she explained. "And I can pick more time any day."

So very curious. "I'll still be able to smile afterwards, right?" The man asked. He rarely smiled, but he definitely didn't want to lose his smile forever. The girl nodded. "Very well then." 

His lips stretched slightly more, forming what he hoped would be enough. It was. The girl heaped the time in his hand, then hopped away, happy as could be.

"Wait!" The man said, putting the time in his pocket. "Why do you need smiles?"

"Silly mister," the girl laughed. "Smiles heal sadness."