FLASH FICTION: Loose Change.

I was just poking around in his chest of drawers, not looking for anything in particular. Wallet, watch, rings, handkerchiefs, undershirts, tie tack, loose change. Everything was here, neatly placed, waiting to be used outside of this hulking piece of furniture.

When I said it that way, it did seem like he was storing feathers in Fort Knox.

But the object was gone. It had just arrived nine days ago, and already it was gone. I didn’t get the chance to figure out what it was. And now I’ll probably never know. I certainly won’t be asking him about it.


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