George walked into the church.
“Where do you want to sit?” he asked his wife. She was quiet. He made his way to where they usually sat. Third pew back and halfway in. The best angle to watch the organ. He sat down, leaned back, and crossed his ankles.
“Do you mind if we sit next to you?” asked a polite young woman.
“Sure, sure. You can sit next to us.”
The woman and her young husband scooted down. They stopped at a respectable distance.
“Is that yours?”
George replied, “I’m sorry?”
The woman pointed at the bench next to George. “The Penny? I wouldn’t want you to lose it.”
George looked down and saw the penny. “Um, yes. Yeah, that’s mine. Thank you.” Confused, George picked up the penny and put it in his jacket pocket.
The service went well. The organist was a guest from the neighboring parish. Her style was refreshing. The message was about accepting loss. Glorifying Jesus with the angelic choir was the topic of the last Hymn.
At home, George went to the door, but Maya reminded him about the trash. He dragged the trash can from the street to the side of the house. He went in and took off his jacket. He took his keys out of his pants pocket to hang them up and heard something clatter onto the floor.
George looked down at the penny. He bent over, picked it up, and put it in his pants pocket. It was time for lunch. He went into the kitchen craving a salad. He washed his hands at the sink and then got the proper vegetables out of the fridge. The carrots were moldy, and he threw them away.
He cut up a cucumber and stored half of it. He shredded up some lettuce and put it in the salad spinner. He put the cherry tomatoes in along with the cucumber. At the sink, he filled the spinner. The penny was on the back ledge next to the cold water faucet.
George checked his pants pocket. Empty.
“Why are you doing this to me?” whispered George.
“It isn’t me, sweetie,” said Maya. “You need to let go. Put it in the offering tray next week.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“I know.”
