The coin-FitzyMature

The clang echoed on the polished titles of the shopping centre floor. I stopped bringing my eyes up from my phone and scanned the floor. There it was alone under the decorative clock; I kept my eyes low to my phone and dodged the pram pushers yelling at their unruly young children.

My luck was in as I neared seeing the gold glimmer inviting me to claim it. The question was how did I claim it without being too obvious? Then the idea came to me as I dropped my bag whiles covering the coin with my boot. I crouched down moving my foot and grasped the coin standing with my bag under my arm. I carried on walking through the shopping centre, wearing a smug smile and thinking of my grandma’s habit of picking up money.

Sitting in a nearby café I took the coin out from my pocket and saw the year engraved. ‘2015’.

It was still new I thought to myself and I wondered how many hands had the coin already seen? Jean pockets, purses, money boxes and strapped to birthday cards.

I was busy spinning the coin, when a hand slammed on the table covering the coin and made me jump back.

“Will you please stop spinning the coin,” the man stood over my table.

Shocked by the stranger command and presents I nodded my head. He didn’t move right away seeming to gage my reaction; then satisfied removed his hand and walked back to his table.

I stared at the coin then lifted my gaze to the man and felt my eyebrows pull together. The man was sat alone on a table, latte steaming and his long fingers flying over his laptop keys.

How rude! I suddenly thought. The man looked a few years older than I, but that doesn’t give him the right to boss me around and to do it so publically too. I finish my hot chocolate and march over to the man who only had time to move his hands before I slammed his laptop lid shut.

“Your tapping is annoying me.” I simply say daring him to argue as his mouth opens and closes. “Good afternoon.”

I walk boldly not looking back at the man. It may have seemed childish but I felt great and reached into my pocket.

“Oh noo!”






Where will it be next?


The End

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