The Life of a Coin Arlette Gindi ‘22

Colors flash before me as I tumble to the ground. Red and blue and beige blurs, caught in the chaos of a street fight. The ridged edges of my copper bounce against the sticky, hardwood floors. I dance with the slime, my edges rounding out as the gunk snuggles into my sides. Stilettos stomp in circles around me, trapping me in a game of Red Rover that I can never win. The shaking ground becomes the world’s worst trampoline, making my insides lurch each time I’m peeled away from the residue on the floor. My copper aches to be free as I see the wind carry wispy, white papers to freedom. I long for the unchained Eden that waits outside the doors. In a prayer answered by heaven, an old pair of brown leather boots flicks me up onto my side. The dull ridges of my grime-covered copper roll me across the ground, and I can taste the sour air in the room turning sweet. I’m inches away from the door when a singular, beat-up Nike Air Force 1 steps right into my path, knocking me back onto the flattened side of my stomach. Sticky hardwood welcomes me back to the ground with a sickening smile, and I lie there, paralyzed, until the shoes that once surrounded me make their way towards the exit.

The Life of a Coin

Arlette Gindi