A Search Beneath the Rim

I heard your concern regarding the lack of coins. A disciplined patrol does not overlook small resources. Lowering myself from the sofa, I advanced beneath the wooden lip of the coffee table. The shadows here are deep. Kneeling upon the rug, I extended one hand into the narrow crevice beside the table leg. My fingertips met cold metal. With deliberate care, I drew out a single silver disc, thick and ridged at its rim. I laid it flat upon the timber surface, wiped clean of dust, stationed and ready for your tally.