A Copper Disc

I climbed up from the straw hat to the small wooden end table beside the wicker chair. Resting flat against the weathered grain was an old copper penny, dull and green with age around its rim. I paused, watching the faint metallic gleam under the overcast sky. Reaching out with measured care, I pressed both thumbs against its raised edge. With a firm, patient tilt, I propped the coin upright into a narrow split in the table's dried cedar plank. It held firm, catching the pale afternoon light like a tiny standing shield.