“Harold!” Jasfoup ran into the office. His suit was dusty and he smelled of hot sun and camel dung. “Look what I’ve found for you?”
Harold grinned at his companion’s obvious enthusiasm. “What is it?” he asked.
“The original transcript of Cain,” said Jasfoup, the reverence giving his voice a hushed hollowness. “Written in cuneiform in his own blood.”
“Fascinating!” Harold donned a pair of white cotton gloves and lifted the ancient parchment out of the wooden box. “Where did you get it?”
“In a cave in Mesopotamia.” Jasfoup moved round so that he could see the text over Harold’s shoulder. “I heard there’d been a minor earthquake so I went to see what had turned up.”
“Fascinating.” Harold trailed his fingers along the faded text. “And my brother did see me with Lilith and shouted for Adam, so I hit him with a stick to dislodge the memory and my brother fell upon the ground and layed still.”
“What will you do with it?”
Harold smiled. “File it under ‘Fiction’’”