The Silver Coin

The tap came at the front door. The old clock over the wall by the mahogany door ticked nine. The coin collector tramped over to the door. "Who is it?" his loud and annoying voice came out as he palmed the doorknob.

The white spiral fluorescent bulb shone bright light down at a worn-out figure of a stranger. The face was pale and almost rumpled. He wore an unkempt gray long-sleeve and dark long pants.

The stranger bowed slightly. "Good evening, señor. They say you're a coin collector." His airy tone surpassed the song of cicadas that flew about the house.

"It's too late! Just come back tomorrow!" snarled the irritated coin collector. He thrust the door abruptly erasing the stranger's shadow on the ground.

The stranger flattened his hand on the door before it fully obstructs his view of the light inside.

"Wait, señor!" cried the stranger. "I'll pay any amount for a silver coin."