I hear it, or some variation, whenever I cut across the corner wedged between coffee shop, liquor store, and the yield running off Osborne Street to River Avenue. If I have coins I pull them out, not my business how money’s spent once it changes hands. If I have none, I smile and say, “Sorry, not today.” This evening a man in his twenties, feet dwarfed in laceless runners, holds out his hand. “I’m saving up for a Lamborghini,” he says, laughing open-mouth, baring mostly gums, a few teeth. I laugh along with him, wishing I could make some change.
Louella Lester is a writer/photographer in Winnipeg, Canada, author of Glass Bricks, contributing editor at NFFR, and is included in Best Microfiction 2024.