text: The five cent coin found himself in a dark void, the light of the living room shone in the distance of every direction. But the coin could not reach for it for he was just that. “Welcome,” whispered a gentle voice from above. The coin turned to the direction of the voice to see an unshapen mass, a shadow in the dark looming above. Rock solid and grey, the mass had surely been here since before the coin was minted. “Who are you and where have I fallen to?” Said the coin. He had never seen a place so hollow of life and light. “You have fallen behind the sofa, where all useless and unwanted things go. I was once gum, and you were once a coin.” The coin was aware that he was a coin, but the gum didn’t look like the pristine, powdered sticks of gum he had spoken to in the many pockets of jeans it had seen over the years. And she definitely lacked the fresh spearmint scent the coin had come to recognise. In fact, the wad of gum glued stuck to the underside of the couch smelt of nothing at all. The gum recognised the coin’s confusion and spoke; “I was once pristine like yourself, how I was created to be. Now, misshapen, and ugly, I have been extracted of any flavour I once held. I now spend my days here, with you.” The coin became a little duller after hearing this. To be created for a single use a single time is a most unfortunate fate to be handed. “With me?” Said the coin. “I may have fallen just as you, but my falling was not from a purposeful discarding but a small setback. An accident,” touted the coin, trying his best to conceal a wobble pushing its way into his words. The coin looked at the gum and then his own tainted, but otherwise acceptable sheen. Flecks of sand and animal hair jutted out from her bulbous skin like scabs, she was inedible. If anyone was to see her, or God forbid, accidentally feel her, they’d recoil away in utter disgust. He thought himself lucky. They sat in silence for a time, with no concept of day or night. The living room light was always on, always teasing in the distance. Any day now he would be found. Someone would find him under the couch in a desperate search for spare change and he would return to the coin purse again. He would change hands countless times, always with a handful of other, heavier coins than himself. Time went on and the coin’s grooves grew thick with muck and dust. Green oxidised flecks began to form around his rim that spread, plaguing his entire body with irreversible scars. There came a time when his numbered value was no longer decipherable. Occasionally something new would be lost behind the couch, the company was appreciated, though the Lindor wrappers weren’t much for conversation. The coin could hardly blame them, they of course were far less worldly than himself. And so the coin spent his time reminiscing on a life of travel and wonder that now felt so far away. He had been to many places, Before, he longed to be more, to hold the weight of a two dollar coin, the breadth of a fifty cent. Now he only wished to be spent at all. “Do you miss it?” “Sometimes.” She breathed a tender chuckle. “I am simply grateful not to be the dust bunny. He was created only of neglect.” The gum’s voice rasped, for she had not spoken much in a long while. “At least for a moment, fleeting as a poppy’s bloom, I was sweet.” “But you were so small?” “And you were not? I am not so sure of the price of gum nowadays, but it must surely be more than that of a five cent coin.” The coin had nearly forgotten just how unimportant he was. He was surprised at how seen this made him feel. A miniscule piece of a far greater whole, he realised that he had been *something.* And that *something* was small, and essentially obsolete. But a coin will always be a coin.