This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Sprung from Grief” Down in the Dirt, v184 (the June 2021 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Lockdown’s Over the Down in the Dirt May-August 2021 issues collection book		get the 420 page May-August 2021 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Exchange Rate

L.B. Sedlacek

    Chad Owens stood in the lobby and wondered why no one had ever tried it. The lobby was small. Beige carpet. Green wallpaper. Fluffy music played from overhead speakers. Three tables were bolted to the floor side by side. Pens chained to the top. Slots filled with deposit or withdrawal slips.
    Chad was ready to make a withdrawal.
    The idea came from standing in line like the one he stood in now. He’d waited behind two teens at the dollar store near the center of this tiny southern mountain town. They’d counted out quarters, pennies, nickels and dimes to pay for batteries. He figured the batteries were for hand held video games — the kind he never had as a kid.
    Like the stand up or table top video games in the old arcades or pizza parlors, he could use quarters. He could use any coin. He could feed change he had into a coin machine that turned coins into cash. He knew the locations of the machines in town and towns within two hours drive. He’d paid some kid at the library computer lab to print off a listing and maps. He knew which days and what times he would go to each machine until all the coins were gone.
    He thought about the coins and scuffed his shoes on the carpet. He glanced at the tellers. They stood behind a long rectangular counter. He straightened his tie with one hand and gripped the black square bag in the other. His father had told him to look the part. The suit was dark blue, not his favorite color, but the cleanest and newest looking one he could find at the thrift store.
    His turn was next. He sighed and swallowed his gum.
    The kid in front of him mumbled something about needing new checks. The teller told him about some new song playing on the speakers. Then the kid asked for a withdrawal slip. Finally, he walked away squeezing a wad of cash into his pocket.
    It was Chad’s turn. The teller grinned her paid by the hour have to do it or lose her job grin and motioned for him to step forward. He nodded and shuffled his feet. He placed the bag on the counter and laid it flat on its side.
    While he was at the thrift store, he’d picked up prescription glasses, a men’s black wig and a gray hat. He squinted and stared through the glasses. He pressed his tongue against wadded up cotton balls in his mouth at his lower lip. They were also stuffed in his cheeks. He didn’t speak. He handed the teller a note and nodded.
    She read the note and her eyes flared. She grabbed the bag and filled it with coins from her drawer. She dragged the bag to each drawer at each slot along the counter that wasn’t occupied by another teller. With a sigh, she heaved the bag into the back vault.
    Chad leaned against the counter and looked down at his phone. He stared at the small glowing screen.
    In a few minutes, the teller marched up to the counter and dropped the bag on it with a thud. She pushed the bag to him. She punched her keyboard and printed a receipt mumbling “Thanks, have a nice day.”
    He grabbed the bag with both hands and bent over as it swung close to the floor. He was only getting coins for a coin operated laundry business he told himself. He also told himself the five dollar bills washed and counterfeited into hundreds were real and that he just exchanged them for coins.
    He told himself the same story forty-three different times until he deposited all the coins in coin machines getting cash or gift cards in return.
    No serial numbers on coins. Unless they were rare and unusual, there was nothing noticeable about them.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...