Thirty Six Cents


A quarter. A nickel. Six pennies.

The sidewalks of Los Angeles have been generous lately. I jingled the change in my pocket and wondered if it was time to leave it at home in the change jar. I’d already emptied my pockets of change twice: four days in a row I found shiny new dimes. Three days I’ve found quarters. Nearly every day I’ve found a scattering of pennies. And one nickel.

At last I decided to empty my pockets into the change jar at home. Thirty six cents. Ching!

I left the house to go to work, scanning the ground, like always. It sometimes seems like I find things just because I look for them: that I look at the sidewalk expecting to find change and it appears. Arriving at the bus stop I could see a cluster of detritus under one of the benches: a broken up jigsaw puzzle, some spilled snacks, and- like magic- a handful of change.

A quarter. Six pennies.

I looked around for the nickel.

A seventh penny.

So evidently I’m meant to have a pocket full of change right now. I’m not sure why.

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on March 29, 2019.

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