Loose change / Karen Carbone Kraut

He was running a little late if he hoped to stop at the bank and still make it to work on time.

Bounding up the platform stairs, two at a time, the extra weight in his messenger bag became all the more evident. He almost tripped while trying to steady the suddenly swinging pendulum hanging from his shoulder but steadied himself on the hand railing and saved certain disaster before emerging from the subway station into the frosty Manhattan morning.

Double-timing it across 6th avenue despite a traffic signal that suggested otherwise, he headed to the bank. He thought it best to get there early rather than deal with a potential line at lunch. The only thing more depressing than spending an evening meticulously counting loose change would be a chance encounter with a coworker while waiting in line at the bank holding multiple rolls of nickels.

He was planning how he'd properly finance the next three days with just three pounds of change when he heard the first metallic splash behind him. Odd, he thought. Before his mind had a chance to process the immanent tragedy the second splash confirmed the now creeping dread but by then it was too late. He turned around just in time to see the last of the fifty dimes from the first broken paper roll come to rest on the sidewalk some 15 feet behind him. The busted roll of pennies that was the second splash appeared to be salvageable. Perhaps he could escape this rapidly deteriorating scene yet. While examining the messenger bag for the method of the coins' escape the remaining money (two rolls of quarters, a roll of dimes, and a roll of nickels) spilled from the undetected hole in the bottom left corner. Each roll exploded upon impact, creating an ever expanding perimeter of copper, zinc, nickel, and shame.

Now on his hands and knees, he scrambled in futile fashion to complete two opposing tasks - clean the sidewalk of this unsightly, worthless mess and recover as much of his net worth as quickly as possible. His only hope was that the countless shoes he saw walk on by wouldn''t belong to the same people that he'd see at the bank, over lunch, where he hoped to have his pockets filled with $42.50 of uncounted and unrolled, loose change.