Kim Treacher didn’t immediately catch the glint of something metal. She then thought it nothing more than a trick of the eye, perhaps a reflection off the picture window of the store she’d just left. However, when she realized the sun didn’t shine towards her, but was positioned directly overhead and therefore couldn’t illuminate the glass as well, she turned her head. There, on the sidewalk near the pedestrian crossing, was a large coin.
Nice, one for the found money can. Whatever loose change she discovered on her walks or in parking lots went into an old tennis ball can in her closet. Usually she collected enough in a year to buy a savings bond or, if she wanted to splurge, some CDs and a nice dinner. Judging from the size of the disc, given the distance, she hoped for at least a Kennedy half-dollar.
With nobody approaching, Kim quick-stepped to the corner only to happen upon an unusual coin—gold, or gold-toned—bearing no presidential profile, but an image of a pot of gold crowned by a rainbow. Disappointed, she stepped away. Junk, she decided. Probably a plastic gift handed out at some restaurant, or garbage left over from last month’s Mardi Gras block party. Whatever. Standing here pondering it didn’t make Kim any richer, and she had more shopping to do.
As she returned to her car to unlock the driver’s side, a high-pitched squeal broke the silence. Kim looked up to see a thin blonde practically diving for the coin. She held it to the sky, as if to inspect every nail grooved along the round edge. “I can’t believe I found one!” the woman cried.
The scene amused Kim. To think anybody could be so naïve, excited over counterfeit money. “It’s not real,” she called over to the blonde. “I saw it myself. It’s fake.”
“Huh?” The woman whirled toward Kim with an expression that implied Kim had toppled over the deep end toward lunacy. “You actually passed this up, and you’re standing there like I’m the idiot?” With a huff, the blonde pocketed the coin and dashed away, leaving Kim with her hand curled around the handle of her car door.
What the hell? Perhaps the woman had faulty laser eye surgery, so that she couldn’t tell real money from some made in China novelty. “Okay, lady,” she muttered, getting into her car. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
* * * *
At her favorite lingerie boutique, Kim browsed the sale bin and had selected three pairs of lacy panties—cream and ivory to perfectly contrast her dark skin—when an uproar near the checkout station caught her attention. Women clustered around the counter, murmuring excitedly among themselves, and a flash of something bright escaped from the tight knot of people. Sensing déjà vu, Kim abandoned her potential purchases and moved closer.
Laura, the willowy redhead worker Kim knew on sight from her frequent visits, cradled in her palms a coin resembling the very one Kim saw on the street that morning. “Can you believe it?” Laura whispered as she showed off her bounty. “Just opened the register and there it was. Talk about this being my lucky day.”
All around her, women nodded and cooed and congratulated the clerk. Kim could only stare, amazed. Why all the fuss over worthless tokens? She looked closely at the coin, as best as she could given Laura’s trembling hands. It didn’t have the appearance of actual minted currency—just round plastic made to resemble money. Again, she had to ask herself what about these things caused such giddy behavior.
To hell with it . “What’s it mean?” she asked, addressing nobody in particular. They obviously all knew the coin’s significance; Kim didn’t care who told the story.
The laughter ceased and now all eyes bore down on her. Laura frowned. Great. Once again she, the rational one, had become the idiot.
“You don’t know?” Laura asked.
“If I did, would I ask?” Kim tried to maintain her calm, fearing a snide reaction might
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