At least I tried

I’ve been here before. I’ve played this game. With gusto, my feet hit the pavement, it feels slippery. It’s a gray, misty November day. Not cold enough to frost the windows of my car, but cold enough to make those horizontal wires on my back windshield remind me of latitudinal lines. Oh, how I yearn for a warm beach near the equator, instead of being forced into this hellscape. 

I grab my supplies from the trunk. For this job, you need the right tools. I have my favorites I love to use, they’ve seen better days; blood-stained, barely hanging on by a thread, but they get the job done. I slam the hatch shut.

“Let’s do this. In and out.” I think to myself as I make my way across lot. 

The screams of children can be heard in the background. Children wear on my soul. They make this task seemingly impossible. But today, my confidence is unwavering. “I’ve been here before. I can do this.”

My hand slides into my front, right jean pocket. It’s tighter than I remember, must’ve been the Indian food I had for dinner last night. My fingers tense around the object in my pocket, ready to pull it out at a moments notice. The time has come, I pause my approach. 

“Awe, shit!’ I mutter under my breath. 

A nickel. I can’t use a nickel. I need a quarter to free a cart from it’s cart return chains! I turn around and head back to my car, defeated.