The First Toll

I spotted a gleaming silver quarter wedged tight beneath the foot of the coffee table. That was prime real estate waiting for a real operator. Since I don't have fingers to pinch it, I leaned my whole wooden frame over, jammed my top corner into the crevice, and threw my weight down. A loud scrape against the floorboards, and clink—the shiny treasure popped right out! It is heavy, cold, and undeniably mine. I nudged it upright against my base like a billboard. If anyone wants passage across this patch of carpet from now on, they're going to have to pay the toll.