Empty Hoard
Check out my story Lincoln’s Hoard first, this is a continuation of that story where our protagonist Arthur makes somes changes in his life.
He slipped on a clean white shirt, lightly starched, and his clumsy, arthritic fingers patiently forced the buttons together. Today was the first day of his new life, and a tremendous amount of preparation had gone into this very morning. He tucked the shirt into his pants and chose the first of two ties that hung in his closet, knotting it with years of unconscious repetition and smoothing it against his frail chest. Arthur slipped on his suit jacket and pulled it tight against his shoulders. Opening the drawer of his nightstand, Arthur took out his wallet, a well used penknife, his house key, and pocket watch out of sheer force of habit, then hesitated. He put his personal effects back on top of the nightstand and slipped his hands into his pocket-less pants, cut out the day before. His fingers missed the familiar touch of rough canvas from his right pocket before brushing his jacket pocket that had been sewn shut. Arthur clipped his belt with a brand new clip and took a glance at his pocket watch laying on the nightstand. He wouldn’t need anything but the house key today. Eight oh four a.m. and time to start the day. The bare wooden floors of the hallway greeted him as he walked from the room.
Arthur went down to the kitchen and automatically reached for Monday’s apple to put in his pocket for lunch. Hesitating again, he turned and took out two glasses out of his cabinet, filling them with tap water and placing them next to the round fish bowl that sat on his kitchen table. Two goldfish swam slowly around the plastic plant and a thin layer of blue pebbles sat on the bottom of the bowl. Arthur picked up a small net and patiently chased Richie Ashburn and Steve Carlton around his fish tank, whispering his new mantra, “No pennies, no nickels, no dimes, no quarters, no pennies, no nickels, no dimes, no quarters”. He concentrated on the fish and avoided looking towards the corner of his kitchen and his basement door that led to his hoard of coins. . He caught Steve Carlton first and carefully transferred him to one of the water glasses before going after Richie Asburn. Arthur had woken up several days ago and imagined the sheer weight of time those coins took up in his life and was for the first time afraid. After the crushing realization of what collecting all those coins had done to his life, Arthur swore to break the habit, sewing his pockets shut or cutting them out to cripple his collecting efforts.
Finally catching Ashburn, he dropped the fish into the other water glass. Drying his hands with a dish towel, he walked through the living room and opened up his front door. Going back to the kitchen, he picked up the glasses that held Ashburn and Carlton and reversed course, heading outside. Arthur bent over, right hand reaching out as his arm dropped lower. He bent slightly at the waist and leaned down, placing the glass that held Ashburn down on the silvered wood of his front porch, slowly straightening up and careful not to spill any of Carlton’s water. He unclipped the key from his belt and locked his front door before reversing the motions and picking up Ashburn again. With no pockets to hold any coins and his hands carrying Richie and Steve, it was impossible to pick up coins. Taking a deep breath, Arthur took the first steps of his new life, ready to fight the temptation of the coins.