Jeremy settled his bony backside on the dirty brown couch, the color masking most of the stains. His brain didn’t register the smell either, a small blessing. The couch was the only one he’d ever owned, lopsided and uncomfortable except for one spot in the middle. Like the house he owned, it had once belonged to his Grandpa.

The sofa had been a point of contention in a previous relationship, but Jeremy didn’t care what anyone thought, he loved it. Nestled in and comfortable, he was ready to binge watch something on Neetflax when a series of sharp, clanging noises came from the kitchen.

He stood and headed out of the small living room to investigate. His bare feet were silent on the carpeting until they slapped onto the wooden flooring of his destination. It sounded like something inside the fridge. Jeremy walked up and opened the larger section, glowing light spilling out as the door squealed on its hinges.

He peered inside, seeing nothing at first. There wasn’t much to look at: condiment bottles and half empty tubblerware greeted him from the top shelf. Nothing on the door except for butter and three empty pickle jars, he liked to save the brine for marinating wings. Bending to search the middle shelf, something glinted in the harsh light. Jeremy reached in and pulled out a metal disk.

What is this, a silver dollar? He turned the coin over in his hand, the markings were unfamiliar. A man wearing a tight shirt was casually holding a sword. Jeremy flipped it to view the other side. The same character stood with hands on hips in front of a creature’s massive head. Okay, that is un—

“Ah!” he screeched as more coins pinged loudly onto the shelves. His heart raced from the sudden shock. “Good gravy,” he said, clutching his chest. Taking several deep breaths, he slowly regained his composure as the high-pitched metallic ringing dissipated. Almost gave me a heart attack.

His attention returned to the top rack, eyes widening. Four gold coins sat on the highest level. He shook his head, bewildered, but quickly snatched one up to examine. The same design adorned its surface, but the coin was quite a bit smaller. This one feels a little heavier for its size. He hefted it in his palm and looked back at the middle shelf, where more silver coins rested in a modest pile.

Jeremy grinned and gathered up the other three gold pieces and several silvers. Well, I’m either going nutty or this is some Alice in Wonderland nonsense. He closed the door and pocketed the small fortune. He vehemently hoped they were real; his job as a cook in a three-star hotel barely covered his mortgage. A few thousand dollars could help him a great deal.

He swiftly moved towards his bedroom for a pair of socks, his pocket clinking with each step. That’s kind of obnoxious. He breezed through the doorway and stopped in front of the dresser across from his bed. He extracted the coins and set them on the wood. Selecting one of each, he dropped them into separate pockets. That done, he slid open the top drawer and took some socks. He hurriedly put them on and ran a hand over his black buzzcut. Time to visit a pawn shop.

He practically flew to the front door, tore it open, slammed it hastily behind himself, and quickly locked up. My luck, I’ll get back, and the whole place will be toast. A few long strides later, and he was in his beat up Chivic. Realizing how on edge he felt, he paused, drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly. He felt his pockets to make sure the coins hadn’t fallen out. Reassured by the stiff feeling of metal underneath denim, he put the car in reverse.

There were pawn shops all over the place; he knew of at least two nearby. Jeremy decided to visit the closer one, it would take him less than ten minutes to get there. He lived in a medium sized city; assuming one used the highway, the entire length of it could be traversed in about 30 minutes. As the time ticked away, he grew less tense; the silent drive calmed his nerves.

The building came into view, and he pulled into the parking lot. He chose a spot right out front and stepped into the sunlight. The pawn shop was in a little strip mall of connected stores, a tan façade and red signage. He made his way to the glass double doors and let himself in. Jeremy strode towards the occupied counter, where a customer was holding a gray laptop.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He overheard the stooping man grumble, “That’s all you’ll gimmie? 75 bucks?”

The chubby-cheeked woman with a ponytail replied, “Yes, that’s all we offer for that model, unfortunately.”

“It cost me six hundred just a few years ago,” he said. “I guess I’ll just keep it then,” and at a snail’s pace, headed for the door.

The woman’s hair swished as she looked up at the approaching Jeremy. “May I help you?”

He reached into his pockets and awkwardly pulled the coins free. “Can you check if these are real?” he said, holding them out to her.

She took the proffered coins, fascinated, “Oh, neat, Medieval style bullion. We have a gizmo just for that, gimmie a few minutes to get them analyzed.”

Jeremy gave her a grateful smile, “That must make your job easier. I’m glad I came here.”

“So much simpler, it used to be a whole ordeal with boring a hole and testing the shavings. Not to mention all the dental work,” she said, before strolling into the back.

Chuckling, he looked around, starting with the display in front of him. It was mostly class-type rings, chunky and bulbous, so he moved on to the next pane of glass. Cheap cutlery was in there. Jeremy stepped over to the wall of extension cords, not exactly interesting. After a few minutes, he was saved from having to examine the leaf blowers by a bubbly voice.

“Good news: both of these,” she said, waving the coins in front of her. Her plump arms wobbled as she did. “Are the real deal.” She pulled out what looked like a small cutting board covered in felt, and placed the items on it.

“That’s a relief, I was worried they’d be counterfeits.” His thoughts drifted back to the fridge; I wonder if anything else dropped in. He stopped himself from daydreaming any further and turned his attention back to the woman. Meeting her dark blue eyes, he asked, “How much can I get for them?”

“Well, that depends. Some bullion is considered limited edition and sells for way more than the price of the metal. Where did you get them? Or what is this set called? I can look it up in a jiffy,” she said.

Jeremy winced, “They were part of my grandpa’s collection, I don’t know anything other than that.”

“They’re interesting; for coins this well-crafted, their sizing is bizarre.”

“How bizarre?” he said.

Her lips tugged up at the edges. “I’ve never heard of a mint that produces gold coins in funky weights like this. They fool around with cheaper metals all the time but never gold. They both weigh 1.6 ounces—gold coins are always 1 ounce or less.”

“That is strange, and the point six seems like a weird choice.”

“That quirk adds to their value considerably. We can offer you $3,600 for the gold and $40 for the silver,” she said.

Jeremy blinked at her. Initially, he thought the gold coin could be worth around $2,000. The fact that it was worth significantly more made him positively giddy. “I’m in the gravy now,” he grinned.

“That must make you… mashed potatoes?” her pale cheeks tinged pink as she laughed.

“I like to think of myself as more of a Salisbury steak,” he said.

She looked him over; his body reminded her of a kite without any fabric. “A bit tough, are ya?”

“I probably would have phrased it differently,” he said.

“Rough around the edges?” she teased.

“Ouch, us Sals get no appreciation.”

She leaned closer, clicking her tongue as if haggling over price. “I did offer you the beloved mashed potato spot.”

“That was very generous, clearly making you the gravy boat,” he said.

She giggled, “You figured me out. Now, the cross us gravy boats must bear­—cash or check?”

Jeremy laughed, “I’ll take the cash.” Pondering the nicer meals that were in his near future. He had been slurping down homemade ramen for three weeks straight; it was tasty, but eating the same thing every night was tedious.

“Sounds good. Hold tight and I’ll be right back with your gravy.” She grabbed the coins before disappearing again. Making it into the back, she placed the bullion on her manager’s desk before hustling over to the safe.

“Ahh, great. He wanted to sell them,” her manager noticed.

“Yep, I’m grabbing his cash,” she replied, kneeling in front of the combination pad.

He looked over appreciatively, “Thanks, Clare, I’ll be out front as soon as I get everything signed.”

“No problem, we haven’t been too busy,” Clare said. The safe emitted a confirming beep as she entered the correct password, and she yanked it open. Reaching inside, she retrieved a blue deposit bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Clare carefully counted out thirty-six, sliding them into an envelope before selecting two twenty-dollar bills and placing them alongside the other notes.

She walked back into the customer area, where two other people had come in and were milling around. Sal was leaning against the counter, drumming his fingers. He looked up at her arrival, she gave him a small smile, “Here’s your cash, let me count it out and get you a receipt.”

Jeremy bobbed his head in affirmation.

Clare quickly made three piles of ten, one of six, and one with the twenties. “$3,640”, she finished, tallying it as she made each stack. “Here you go,” she handed him the envelope after filling it.

Taking the wad of cash, Jeremy said, “I don’t need a receipt.” He was eager to return home.

Clare gave him a sly smile, “Okay, have a nice day.”

He returned the gesture, "You too." Pivoting on his heel, Jeremy aimed for the exit.