“Where am I?” Ones thought to himself, while absorbing the space around him in the coffee shop.
The man finished addressing him and placed him back in the tips jar.
Ones had been in the elderly woman’s purse for some time, though he wasn’t sure how long. His awakening by her voice was his first– she had called him lucky too. It was all he could think of as the lighting of the shop blinded him. He had never seen so much color before.
“If I’m beckoned by being called lucky,” thought Ones, “then why did I fall back into unconsciousness?”
The woman had won a scratch off lottery. It was a gift for her 88th birthday from her only son. It wasn’t much, though. Just $15. Ten of which went towards pink tulips for her home, and the rest she stuffed into her bag. Before she did though, she held just one single, Ones himself, and said that he was lucky. Because he was a gift. A gift that proved she wasn’t forgotten.
And that was it.
Ones then spent the next few weeks forming his identity and trying to understand the world he lived in. All in complete darkness. He could observe, but that was all. He had no way to communicate his thoughts.
As for the other bills he shared the bottom of the bag with, he was confident they hadn’t woken because he was the only one spoken to.
After figuring this out, however, he slipped back into sleep. “Maybe it’s because she forgot about me and the other four bills” he pondered. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to wake up at all.”
Ones then considered his position next to the cashier and was grateful. The man and this place seemed harmless. He could learn here and find what he was intended for.
It was enough for him to focus and to promise that he wouldn’t fall back into dreams.