Q653 — or is it Q752
As long as nothing happens to THIS,
I said, flipping the dog-tag parking token into the air and catching it,
I can stay here.
Moments later, I woke up.
I’d found it by chance under one of the tables my group was kind of camping out behind. C– was taking a mud bath. We had couches, music, levity. At first I thought it was a gold coin. It was floating suspended in a little clear vial of ever so slightly foggy water. The impermanence of the number engraved on it had been my first clue. Then I’d looked around and started realizing how unlikely parts of the rest of the scene were.
Awww, but I really like this one! I’d said to my little cluster of friends and family.
I had worked with my dad in a print shop. We were healthy, hearty. The restaurant was affordable. My little group expanded organically, bringing in new people around the edges. We were funny. The soundtrack affirmed everything we said and did.
We must take care of each other, regardless of what we have or haven’t suffered, whether or not we play a starring role, or how much time we may or may not have left.
The token rang out clear and bright as it spun, with a touch of natural vibrato from its asymmetrical precession. When I caught it I caught it perfectly, effortlessly, and dropped it into my pocket.