Part 3– Ones’ Envy: A Tale Of a Dollar Bill

6 days passed and Ones was the only tip the man received. He still didn’t know his name, either.

Customers came and went and the small tables scattered in the shop stayed vacant. When they weren’t, they seated an individual or two, busy with other concerns. Concerns which blinded them from the beauty of the place. The mohagany walls, with the man’s painted villages hanging on them.

They drank their coffees, stared at their tablets, and were gone. Mostly, though, they waited in line, yelling into their phones or thumbing through emails, thinking about their money elsewhere.

It was always about money. Ones was shocked how some customers threw it away as if it were nothing, because they had so much, while others pored over every last cent. Yet one thing was true for them all: they talked about their bills, their groceries, their paychecks, and about everything they wanted, but only at what costs. Whether it be time, money, or will.

As he observed, Ones saw how much he and his fellow bills ruled the humans.

“We’re nothing but a commodity, but we can still bring them to mercy,” he realized.

As he fully understood the value of this statement, he decided that he hated the system. For putting the world’s and every individuals’ worries on those like him.

“Their ways highlight their freedom to choose what they want. They create their own intentions, and yet, why can’t I?” he thought.

He pondered this after a mother of two teenagers muttered that she needed to buy more cigarettes. The kids gave each other dirty looks.

“If I was in her wallet now, I’d be supporting her unhealthy lifestyle in a few minutes,” Ones acknowledged. He felt bad for the kids.”It’s hardly the worst scenario, too. I’m sure there’s worse.”

These incidents affected Ones. He wanted so badly to be like them, the humans. To choose his own intention and do some good. Especially for the man, who never spoke unless when forced by the customers.

“I’d help him,” thought Ones. “I’d do everything I could.”

All because of what he and the elderly woman shared with the man. Lonesome.

Strangely, he was Ones’ last hope.

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About Kimberly Engel

Dreaming, creating and tech-obsessed in New York City.
This entry was posted in Ones' Envy, Short Story, Threading By Words, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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