The innocent Benjamin Gaume learned how to run away from his past the right way. He ran to the big city of New York, where no one would ask his name much less where he came from. He got a job at a one of the many coffee places in New York, and he is...
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It was really darn cold out here. I could see my frosty breath every time I let out a breath. It reminded me of a train, and I giggled. It's like I'm a train.
I only brought thirty dollars with me for my bowls and whatnot, maybe more maybe less. I just took all my one dollar bills. My pockets were stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Walking around I noticed the streets were becoming oddly familiar to me. I never had moved before, and it was exciting learning the ins and outs of new places.
I hadn't been able to find any cheap cutlery or bowls or plates. I ran into a few antique shops, but dang twenty dollars for one plate was way too rich for my blood. I didn't really want nice things anyways, chances are I'd break it or would have to sell it like I did all my other possessions.
I was looking up at a really tall building when someone bumped into me. I fell to the ground with most of my money coming out of my pockets. I swear a breeze that was too rough could knock me down in half a second flat.
"Oh dear," I scrambled up, trying to get to my money. "Man, oh man."
"Hey dude, lemme' help, I'm sorry about this," the voice, obviously a man, apologized.
I didn't bother replying, and I just rushed to get all the dollar bills I dropped.
I was fixing to grab a wad of my dollar bills, when another hand got in my way, and we bumped knuckles. This is what let the money get away from both of us, and it drifted off into the street.
I got up quickly and ran to go get it, but the money was everywhere from puddles to down the street faster than I've ever seen a cab go.
I returned to the crash zone, where a tall man in a very nice pea coat was standing talking into his pretty new-looking phone. He was talking a tad bit disgruntled, and his thick eyebrows were furrowed in irritation. It was hard to place any more of his features in the dark, and the street light above us was not working.
When he saw me, he took the phone away from his ear, tapped it a couple of times, and put it in his pocket.
"Hey, sorry. I picked some of the money up for you," he said pulling money out of his wallet and handed it to me. I'm not a genius, but I'm sure my money did not fall into his Gucci wallet.
I saw the money he handed me was two twenties. I shook my head and gave it back to him. "Oh, um you must be mistaken, I only had one-dollar bills. Um, and I didn't lose forty dollars."
"One dollar bills? Are you going to the strip club or something?" His lips pulling into a smirk, not taking his money back.
My face quickly heated in the cold weather, and I crossed my arms, "Oh, uh, no, um, just all I had was d-dollar bills, because, um, when I sold my phone a guy mostly only had dollar bills and, um yeah."
