As Marin looked around the room, she was again at a loss as to how the man managed to breathe. The air was so thick with smoke from various things, Marin had trouble seeing the back wall--which was not that far away. Still, her youthful face couldn't help but betray her with a smile when she saw the poor old man. He was so dedicated to his work, and it made him happy. Even though he was not appreciated for it, he didn't care, and Marin was glad for that much. Lloyd's workshop was nothing more than a simple shed. A fire burned somewhere, but most of the heat came from his various experiments. Some were just that--a way to generate heat--but most were supposed to have practical applications. Marin didn't know much of what they were about, but Mr. Lloyd loved to talk about them even though she didn't understand. Sometimes she'd sit and listen to him just to see his old eyes sparkle with life at the thought of "making a difference", as he always said. He worked almost non-stop, slept no more than five hours a night, as far as she knew. Sometimes she worried for him. He beamed as he saw Marin approach with her tray. Straightening both himself and his spectacles, he grinned at her and rose from his stool. "Marin, you're too kind to an old man," he said in his raspy voice. He spied the food, and she handed it to him with a smile. "It's the least I can do," she responded. "I know how much all this means to you." Lloyd chuckled and transferred some old plates to the tray after leaving the fresh one on his workbench. He handed the tray back to Marin. "What would I do without you, my dear?" "Die of starvation, I'm willing to wager." This was somewhat of a ritual for them, Mr. Lloyd's own way of thanking Marin for the food and her continued friendship. They'd first met when Lloyd was out shopping for supplies. He had bought so much that he could only barely carry it all. Having very little herself, Marin had offered to help. That day two years ago, the old man had looked very frail, much worse than he did now. Since Marin had been taking care of him, Lloyd's health had improved dramatically, as had his temperament. Now he was cheerful even around strangers--whenever he met strangers, that is. Having to go out less, Mr. Lloyd dedicated more and more time to his work. Marin suspected that the old man had not left his shed in at least a week. Suddenly concerned at the thought, Marin put the tray aside, a clear sign she would be staying a while. Mr. Lloyd sat down on his stool, motioning for her to do the same across from him. "What's troubling you, little lady?" he asked, giving her his complete attention. That was another reason she loved the man. Even though his work was all the world to him, he would still devote his time to her without question, complaint, or even request. "I'm worried about you," she said bluntly. "You haven't left your workshop in at least a week, I'm sure of it." Nervous, Marin played with her dress despite herself. She didn't want to annoy him or put him in a bad mood. To her surprise, the old man just nodded. "I may as well see if those parents of yours are still taking as good care of you as you are of me," he reasoned with a cackle, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. "This air's probably not too good for me, either." He swivelled on his stool and picked up his plate, a nicely cooked chicken and vegetables upon it. "No point in letting this food go to waste, though. Be a good girl and open the windows wide while I eat, Marin." Standing, Marin smiled. "With pleasure."

-----

Mid-summer had always been Lloyd's favourite time of the year in his youth, but all the seasons were the same to him now. Living inside his workshop, he could hardly tell when winter came anymore. Sitting outside on the porch of Marin's home, however, Lloyd felt for the first time in many years like he was actually in the middle of summer. The porch was aglow with lanterns hung from above, and the stars were quite brilliant. The moons dominated the sky, arranged closely together. Nancy, Marin's mother, brought out some alcoholic lemonade and her husband's pipe. Marin sat under the light of a lantern with her sketchbook while Lloyd and her father Patrik relaxed. "Keeping busy, Daniel?" Patrik asked, lighting his pipe. "We haven't seen you in a while." The elder man chuckled. "I haven't kicked the bucket yet, anyway. I've been working on something big," he teased. Patrik raised an eyebrow, drawing on his pipe. "Big?" "Huge." Lloyd cackled, scratching at what was left of his hair. "It's still in the dreaming stage," he informed him with a grin. "I'll tell you about it some other time." The younger man let the matter drop, satisfying his curiosity instead with other news.

------

The night waned and a bed was made for Daniel Lloyd, which he graciously accepted. The next day, he was back in his workshop, mixing strange ingredients for even stranger reasons, and life continued as it normally did. A year passed, and the old man left occasionally, usually with some prodding by Marin. Another year passed, however, and Lloyd went out one day without any prodding at all. He had been asked to attend a wedding. The happiest day of his life, he'd tell people, he saw Marin married that day. His little Marin, with her perfect smile. Lloyd had prepared himself for change afterwards, but Marin still came to visit him every day, ring on her finger and all. Granted, she never stood as long as before, but that was to be expected. Even with a full belly, his little lady diligently took care of him. When Marin came to be too far along, her husband Karl came in her stead. This especially surprised and touched him. Karl told Lloyd that he was all Marin ever talked about. Every day, she would tell him how he was doing, what he was up to--Karl admitted that it got to be a little irritating. After a few visits, thought, he said he understood why Marin cared so much, and that he himself had started to tell her of the state of her friend's welfare with a certain sense of joy. Lloyd laughs loudly at that.

Still, despite the slight changes in his routine, Lloyd still concocted various potions and elixirs, invented many gadgets--and he worked slowly on his big secret.

Lloyd grew older, frailer. He could see that it pained Marin to see him slowly withering away, but there was nothing to be done about it. He always knew he would die eventually, and the growing proximity of his end changed nothing for him. Unendingly, he worked, his big secret closer and closer to completion. Eventually came the time when Lloyd could no longer get out of bed. Marin and Karl both took great care to make him comfortable during that time, and they encouraged him to rest. Rest, however, he did not. Even from his bed, the old man worked. It was all he knew how to do.

Shortly after, Daniel Lloyd died in his sleep. His experiments still boiled away in his workshop, last night's meal diligently eaten despite his poor health. In death, he looked at peace--at peace with both himself and the world. And there was a letter in his hand: a letter to Marin.

Dearest Marin,I leave you knowing that you are in good hands. As you took care of me so lovingly, take good care of your husband. He loves you very much, and with all his heart. Remember me, Marin, please, for I fear that the world will not, even though I have done so much for it in my own way. Remember me, and honour this one last request. There is a notebook on my workbench. It took all my strength just to put it there. Never show it to anyone, Marin! Bury it, lock it away, burn it--I don't care. It's my life's work, but it was wrong for me to even try. The formulas in that notebook can turn almost anything into gold, Marin. I thought I would help the world by doing this, but what a fool I was! No one can ever be allowed to use those formulas, no one! Please, Marin, do just this one last thing for me.

Your friend,Daniel Lloyd

Marin never did bury that notebook, nor did she burn it. She also never showed it to anyone, but rumours still spread, and they are alive to this day. People still search for Lloyd's notebook, but no one truly believes it will ever be found. Nevertheless, only time can tell.