Coin's Weight

He arranged copper coins into neat piles, ignoring all observation as his fingers sifted through the jar labeled 'Necessary Evils.' The metal smelled sharply of age and countless hands; each coin a dark bloom marking some past agreement. He wasn't building wealth, but defining boundaries—a slow reckoning performed with deliberate motion. Beside him sat a chipped teacup, its iron handle cool to the touch, half-filled with still water reflecting the room’s dim light, a quiet measure against endless cost.