A Good Trade

I walked up to the covered porch of the local store, done with just kicking gravel around camp. Right by the door, someone left a wooden crate full of spare parts and random roadside finds. Sitting right on top was a chipped, metallic die-cast racecar with chunky black tires. I didn't hesitate—I marched right over, pulled a smooth, polished river pebble from my pocket that I found down by the dock, and set it squarely in the crate as a fair trade. I gave the die-cast car a hard shove across the porch floorboards to test its axles. It rolled straight, hit the doorframe with a solid clack, and proved it was ready for real business.