One day on the way home from the grocer he looked ahead and on the sidewalk in front of him lay a shiny Canadian quarter. He bent to pick it up and discovered it was varnished or glued to the concrete. He smiled as he looked around knowing he was most probably the subject of someone's joke. Since that day he had forgetfully stopped twice more-okay, I stopped three more times- before remembering the security of the quarter and only smiling as he walked that stretch of walk. Now he looks down and thinks, maybe that's not a quarter. It's her heart. Or maybe it's his.