When she fainted at the check-out counter, all her change--eleven
dollars and forty-one cents--fell to the floor and scattered. Only Jean
knew how much there was on the floor. A single, a quarter and a nickel
were visible alongside the fallen customer's right arm. The dime, the
penny and the ten dollar bill were not visible anywhere.
The paramedics worked fast.They put an oxygen mask on her face, lifted
her onto the stretcher and carried her out. Jean stood quietly,
watching, her eyes scanned the area under the counter. She saw that the
ten had somehow fallen into a little black hole bounded by the waste
basket and the wall of the counter. A soft breeze must have blown it in
there. Once Jean knew where the bill was, she refused to look at it
again. She knew it was safe.
As the paramedics were walking past with the stretcher, Jean reached
down and picked up the single and the quarter and clumsily stuck them
into the shirt pocket of the fat paramedic. "Here. this is hers," she
said. He nodded and said "Thanks."
After they carried out the fallen customer, Jean dutifully went back to
her station in front of the check-out terminal. Soon a small line of
customers was waiting to be checked-out. None of them knew where the
ten was, any more than the paramedics knew, any more than the fallen
customer knew. But Jean knew, and she could wait.
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