He imprisoned fairies in sterile Mason jars with air holes and fed them pearls of morning dew. In the evenings he read in their ethereal light. He began the hobby because he wanted to save money on candles. It rapidly became a lifestyle.
She collected miniature devils and took them to the taxidermist, bringing home little red figures preserved in a variety of verbs. She sang to them in the twilight and dreamed of Sheol’s warm red fires. They cluttered her bedroom, overflowing into the rest of her living space.
One day they met on the street under a sky the color of scorched metal. Squinting, he carried his jar like a lantern and it lit his way between the guttering gas lamps. She walked like a drunk, absorbed in a dialogue with the little red devils that filled her many pockets. They collided and made great rocking shadows. He bent to pick a figurine, and she bent to pick his glasses. Their heads knocked together and they saw stars that quickly turned into orbiting hearts.
Together they made good company, provided one left the other to their idiosyncrasies, and moved in together. After a year passed, they were murdered in the only recorded cooperation between the devils and fairies, leaving the authorities scratching their scalps in confusion.