On a quiet afternoon, Ryan sat at his desk, sifting through a pile of old coins he had found in his grandmother’s attic. Most of them were dull and worn, but one brown penny caught his eye. It was old—much older than the others. The date stamped on it was barely legible, but it seemed to read "1909." As he held it up to the light, a strange warmth spread from the coin into his hand.
Suddenly, the penny twitched.
Ryan dropped it, startled. The penny spun on the desk, wobbling until it stood upright. Before Ryan could react, a gruff, gravelly voice echoed through the room.
"Oi! Watch where you drop me, you careless oaf!"
Ryan stared, speechless, as the penny continued its tirade. "Do you even know what I’ve been through? A century of rolling through pockets, clinking in jars, and being stepped on! And here you are, tossing me around like I’m nothing!"
The penny’s voice grew louder. “Back in my day, I was worth something! You could buy a loaf of bread, a piece of candy—now, I’m just a forgotten scrap of copper. You kids have no respect for history!”
Ryan blinked, still too stunned to speak. The penny rattled angrily on the desk.
“Well? Got nothing to say for yourself? Ungrateful brat!”
After a moment, Ryan whispered, “I… I’m sorry?”
The penny stopped shaking and settled flat on the desk with a huff. “You’d better be. Now, put me back where I belong—someplace safe. I’ve earned a bit of peace.”
Ryan nodded, gingerly picking up the old coin and placing it carefully in a velvet pouch.
"Good," the penny muttered. "Finally, some respect."
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