The Timeless Sacrifice

The door to the coffee shop swung open, a sharp gust of cold wind pushing through as Leo stepped inside. The familiar chime of the bell above the door seemed quieter today, almost drowned by the buzzing of his thoughts. He glanced around the warm, dimly lit room, the faint smell of coffee teasing his senses, but nothing could distract him from the inevitable truth.

Time was running out.

He approached the counter, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, already feeling the weight of what was about to happen. The Batista, a young woman with tired eyes, gave him the same blank expression she gave every customer.

“Medium roast,” he muttered, his voice tight. Then, after a pause, “And a donut.”

“That’ll be seven minutes,” she replied. Her words were casual, indifferent, as if those minutes didn’t carry the crushing weight that they actually did.

Leo pulled up his sleeve, revealing the wristband that had become a part of him over the years. The glowing numbers flickered like an ominous reminder of his fate. 2 days, 4 hours, 37 minutes. He tapped the band against the scanner.

7 minutes deducted.

The Batista handed him the cup and the donut, her eyes briefly flicking to his wrist before moving on to the next customer. That’s how this world was. No one really cared about your time — everyone was just trying to hold on to their own.

He found a table by the window, sinking into the chair as he cradled the coffee between his hands. Outside, people moved through the streets, all of them marked by the same invisible countdown. Some had months or years left, others mere hours, but they all lived with the same unspoken truth.

As he stared into his coffee, a familiar figure appeared in the reflection of the window — the Time Collector.

Leo’s stomach twisted. Not again.

The man in the sleek charcoal suit moved with an unnatural grace, his expression calm, almost predatory. He slid into the seat across from Leo without asking, as if they were old friends.

“Leo,” the Collector greeted him, his voice smooth and measured. “You’re down to two days now.”

He didn’t reply, staring out the window. His heart pounded in his chest, the reality of his dwindling time heavy on his mind. He had been avoiding this moment for months, but now, with less than two days left, it seemed inevitable.

“You’ve refused every offer we’ve made you so far,” the Collector continued, his eyes flicking to the wristband. “But now, you have a choice to make.”

Leo gritted his teeth, the anger rising in his chest. “I’ve told you — I’m not trading anything. I’m not giving up memories, or talents, or pieces of my soul just to buy more time.”

The Collector smiled, leaning forward, his gaze unwavering. “This time, the offer is different.”

Leo’s pulse quickened. He had heard of Collectors making unconventional offers, but he had always assumed he could resist them. But with time running out, the weight of those decisions had finally caught up to him.

“What do you want?” Leo asked, his voice low and strained.

The Collector’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming. “I want one of your five senses.”

Leo stared at him, stunned. One of his senses?

“If you give up the ability to see, hear, touch, taste, or smell,” the Collector continued smoothly, “I can offer you ten more years. You’ll live longer. You’ll have time to rebuild. But one of those senses will be gone forever.”

His mind raced. Ten more years. Ten more years to chase his dreams again, to try to regain the empire he had lost. But without one of his senses? What would that even mean?

He would be alive, but without taste, that donut he just ate would have been meaningless. Without sight, he’d never see the sunrise over his city again. Without touch, he’d never feel the satisfaction of shaking a hand in triumph. And with no hearing… could he even bear the silence?

“You’ve got less than two days left. Is that how you want to spend your time? Watching your dreams slip through your fingers?”

Leo clenched his fists, staring at the table. Was this really a choice?

The Collector leaned back, watching him with the detached interest of someone who already knew the answer. “You can rebuild. You were always a fighter. But ten years… it’s a long time to live without one of your senses. Choose wisely.”

Leo’s heart pounded in his chest. The seconds slipped away like grains of sand. The chance to rebuild, to rise again… but at what cost?

“Fine,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Take it.”

The Collector’s smile widened, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Which sense will you give me?”

Leo hesitated. He thought of all he had experienced, all he had tasted, touched, seen, heard, and smelled. What could he live without? What could he sacrifice?

“The taste,” he whispered. “Take my ability to taste.”

The Collector’s expression softened, just slightly. “Done.”

The exchange was immediate. He felt a strange, empty sensation, like a part of him had been pulled from within. He reached for the donut and bit into it.

Nothing.

No sweetness, no texture, just a hollow emptiness in his mouth.

He glanced down at his wristband. 10 years added.

The Collector stood, adjusting his suit as if nothing significant had transpired. “A pleasure doing business. I’ll see you… in ten years.”

And with that, he turned and left, leaving Leo alone at the table. His dreams would live on, but the joy of tasting victory was gone forever.

Or so the Collector thought.

Leo allowed himself a small, private smile. He knew something the Collector didn’t: smell makes up nearly 70% of what you taste. He took another bite of the donut. It wasn’t the same, but the flavor was still there, faintly lingering at the edges.

He had tricked the Collector.