Good Things

He admired his pile of shiny copper pennies. All were minted this year, removed from circulation when they found his hand.

Counting his shiny pennies, he made neat little stacks of ten, and then admired the stacks.

Such pennies, so shiny and new, had to mean good luck. He had sixty-four of them. One for each year of his life.

He grinned. Good things were coming his way.

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