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I had a coin I used to play with when I was a kid.
It was a not so very ordinary coin
There wasn’t anything extraordinary about it too
I would take it with me where ever I could.
To school
To the garden
To the loo
To bed
The market when my mother would ask me to buy things for the house
To church
To choir practice
There were only a few places one would go then
On one such day a friend asked to see this coin
I didn’t want to give it cause I felt he wouldn’t know how to hold it
To take care of it
I didn’t want him to feel the faded bronzed surface
Reluctantly I handed him my coin
Counting all the seconds in a second
Eyes never leaving its sight
When I got it back I rubbed it against my T-shirt and held it until I felt it piercing through my palm
‘You’re home’
The coin whispered to me.

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