On my front stairs there rests a Dime. It has been there since October. I first noticed the dime sitting there on the first night that Charity didn’t bother to come home. I was sitting there on the stoop, trying to keep myself from thinking the worst, and I noticed it sitting there on the third step. I don’t know how it got there, but I do know that I left it there. I don’t know why really... maybe I was just too upset to care... but about a week later, as I found myself sitting there after a particularly intense fight with Charity, I noticed it was still there! I know it sounds stupid, but it kinda renewed my faith in humanity that no one had bothered to pick it up yet. It’s easily visible from the sidewalk, and you wouldn’t have to stoop over or anything. But there it was... Heads up, just as I had last noticed it. A week or two later, when Charity left for good, I stood out on the stoop, looking at the night sky, feeling pretty bad about my life in general, and lo and behold... the dime was still there. This time, the dime spoke to me of resilliance. It was hanging in there, and so would I. I know this sounds silly, but this dime has really come to mean a lot to me. At least three of my friends have noticed it, and tried to pick it up, but all have put it back in place at my insistance. All looked at me funny, but I had taken to calling it my "lucky dime", so they didn’t call the boys in the white coats. I gotta tell ya, That dime is a trooper. Storms, wind, rain, lightning... It’s still there!
So, the other day I was doing some cleaning (Stop the presses!) and I came across a small piece of paper with a dime taped to it. On the paper in handwriting that was not my own was written “Rob’s lucky dime”. I can’t remember where it came from, but it’s safe to say that it had been in that pile for years.
All I could do was hold back the tears and smile.
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