The Dime, The Dollar and the Drain (life of a dollar)

The Dime, The Dollar and the Drain.

Monday:

Me and Dime, we’re just sitting on this drain, tittering on the edge of one bar. One slim bar. Okay, it’s just me. Dime’s pretty much set. He’s right on the middle, chilling like he’s one of those coins painted on the billboard across the street.

Tuesday:

Today, the wind was so fierce! It blew me closer to the drain and I would have fallen in had I not had a piece of slowly stailing gum attached to my back. For the moment I was safe. Hearing my frantic screams, Dime panicked but upon hearing why I was screaming, he laughed. I knew he was relieved. Neither of us really wanted to be left on the drain alone and neither of us wanted to fall into the dark abyss but it still annoyed me that something so real was so funny to him.

Wednesday:

A new arrival! Her name is Penny.Like me, she titters on the edge of the dark abyss but seems cheerful about it. She’s got so many stories to tell about a home called pocket. And her family! They sound so amusing! Her grandfather was a dollar and her father was a quarter but he abandoned the family for adventure in the drain, leaving Penny, her cousin Dimea and her aunt, Quartera. I can’t believe her father would willingly go into the drain. But it doesn’t seem like that sucker’s comin’ back anytime soon.

Thrusday:

There’s absolutely no wind today. The air is stale, like it gets before a storm, and the sky overhead is dark. I dread the coming storm. So does Dime. Penny just seems fascinated by it. She’ll hate it soon enough. It’s an awful time when you feel that first drop of water smash onto you, soaking your papery corners or your engraved face (Dime). Dime and I, we’ve been through a lot of storms together. He’s rusted, tarnished actually. Me. Well, I’m crumpled, torn at the corners and covered in the grime that clings to these horrible bars as well as the piece of gum my previous owner spit on my back the fateful day he dropped me here. The fool mistook me for a napkin. But it was so long ago, I don’t even remember.

Friday:

It’s still raining. The streets are unusually empty of all humans. Penny, she’s humming a tune. The water makes her happy. Me? I’m absolutely miserable. Dime’s mood seems better. He likes Penny, I can tell. It looks to me that, though she seems oblivious, she knows more than she’s letting on. I role my eyes as, once again, Dime starts up a conversation directed only at Penny. The last time he’d done that, I’d answered his questions before Penny could and things got akward. I can tell Dime wants to say something but he doesn’t. He keeps his mouth shut even when Penny’s asleep. She’s a very heavy sleeper. I guess he intends to use the silent treatment as my punishment.

Saturday:

The street is void of all life. Even bugs. The rain stopped, last night and now the air is dry. Drier than stormy day dry. Dark clouds still rumble overhead, asserting their authority. I ask Penny what she thinks is going on. She doesn’t know. Dime ,when I ask him, refuses to answer, feigning sleep. He’s still mad but I’m too on edge to care. Let him hate me. It’s clear Penny doesn’t see the two of them together in the future. Besides, her bar is closer to mine than his. If anything, she and I would be a better match but I’d rather stay drain buddies rather than screw up a good thing.

Sunday:

It’s a tradgedy! A tradgedy, I say. The winds today were stronger than the usually taunting breeze. I felt that this was it. This tornado would be my undoing. After all it passed right by our homey little drain, tearing at the road in a fit of pure, unsupressed anger. Miraculously, my gum held tight to me. But Penny, oh sweet Penny, met her fate. She toppled into the drain, a look of fearful anticipation of her face. Now she would finally see what her father had seen. Dime, he cried, but his cries were lost in the wind. After the tornado, as life returned to the streets, he stopped, sniffing and acting macho once again. I smiled at this. Good, old unchanging Dime.

“Hey,” he said to me, his first word in what felt like ages.

“Yes?” I asked.

“What do you have to eat over there? I’m starving.”

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~ by arihaxxx on April 7, 2011.

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