The girl sits in her wooden booth set a few feet back from the sidewalk. The booth is a haphazardly constructed desk with a sign post over the top, reminiscent of a child's lemonade stand. The red-on-white of the sign over the top stands in stark contrast to the faded, rotting wood it rests upon. The sign reads simply "LOVE".
You approach the girl, her faded blue eyes look up at you warmly from between golden curls of her. Her gaze pulls you in and bathes you in a sense of tranquility.
"How much?" you ask bluntly.
"It's free," she replies softly. "It's not love if you make people pay for it."
"I'll take one...er...love then?"
"I already gave it to you," she says. "Didn't you feel it?"
You realize you did.