A story about the unappreciated.

As I walk along the street, I notice a shiny thing,

But what could it be?

It appears to be a penny,

Discontinued by the US Mint,

Rejected by society,

Abandoned all alone.

I can’t help but pick it up and bring it home.

It sits on my desk for some time.

A few weeks later, I find another penny, again alone and abandoned.

I can’t stop myself—I pick it up and bring it home.

Now my penny has a friend.

The pile starts growing on my desk.

At bus stops, at restaurants, I notice pennies

Appearing left and right.

I pick them up and bring them home.

The obsession grows.

I’m at museums, and all I notice are the pennies in the fountains,

Staring, watching me, begging me to take them home.

I do.

Slowly and slowly, I dive into fountains.

My desk slowly becomes a penny palace.

Soon, I am forced to spend the pennies.

I use them in coffee shops, bakeries, and bookstores.

The cashiers roll their eyes, annoyed.

I begin using them at vending machines to avoid these looks.

But I am not ashamed.

I am in love with my pennies.

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