"It's not enough."

The boy stared back at me with a blank expression. He blinked once.

"This isn't enough money," I repeated. The muscles in his face stayed remained so still that I briefly wondered if time had stopped. Just when I was about to turn around to check to make sure the second hand on the clock was still ticking, I saw him blink again.

I raised my eyebrows expectantly but still got no response. What did this kid expect me to do? It's not like I was rolling in cash either, obviously. Does he think I worked at a convenience store just for the thrill? And I mean, sure... I felt for him. But, come on. I don't make enough money for this shit. Does he have any idea how many people come in here every single shift I work and hand me less than the total they owe? Or how many people complain to me about the prices, as if I had any control over it at all? What, was I supposed to cover the tab of every down on his luck son of a bitch that walked through that door and tried to buy a loaded chili dog that he couldn't quite afford? I don't think so, man. And if I help this guy, do I help the next guy, too? And if this guy comes back, will he expect me to pay again? Where would it end? Nah.

I had to admit, though: I was curious. If I'm being honest, this was the most interesting interaction I'd had all day.

I'd seen the dude around before. He'd come into the store a few times since I'd worked there—probably close to a dozen times over the year and a half I'd been behind the counter. Not often enough for me to remember what he usually bought or anything, but often enough that I knew his face and that he spoke English. And he'd certainly been in often enough for me to know he'd never done whatever the hell this was before.

I started to get uneasy and looked down at my feet. I wished it weren't the middle of the night. I wished there were someone working this shift with me. Even working with Bradley was starting to sound better than dealing with this by myself.

His total wasn't even that high. $6.42, which was actually a damn good deal! The energy drinks were on sale 2 for $5 and we also had a deal going at the time where you could get an item from the grill for only a dollar if you spent at least $3 on something else. And he wasn't even that short on the amount; he'd given me a five dollar bill along with three nickels and a penny. Come to think of it, what was the deal with that, anyway? Who tries to pay their total of $6.42 by handing over five dollars and 16 cents?

Wait.

$5.16?

As the realization hit, I inhaled sharply through my nose, and my head snapped back up. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, and my eyes were wide with panic. He still didn't seem to react, didn't move a muscle, didn't so much as flinch.

But when he saw that I had figured it out, I caught the faintest glint in his eye, and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I stared at the note, and the two coins. The 6 cent coin gleamed back at me, harsh under the luminescent strip lights. It was the right size, weight, colour - but the inscription - that was different. 'In the Lord, have trust', next to the face of a man I didn't quite recognise. I left the counter, walking around back to the gumball machine outside the store. I put the coin in. Turned the crank. And into the palm of my hand, rolled a gumball. Perfectly ordinary, pink and round and shiny. I sniffed it. It was fine. Put it into my mouth.

The coin worked fine.

When I got back to the checkout, a lady was already there, glaring at me.

"I've been waiting here for ten minutes."
"Sorry, m'aam. I was... taking a bathroom break."
"It's highly unprofessional," she grumbles, placing her bounty of chocolate and candy onto the counter, eyeing up my working jaw. "Jerker," she whispers under her breath.

"Excuse me?"
"Don't joke with me, boy. You were on a smoke break, you dirty jerker. I can't believe they still hire people like you."
I pause. "M'aam, this is bubblegum. Not...meth."
"Bubblegum, is it? It that what the kids are smoking these days?"

"No, it's...." I sigh, deciding it's not worth it. "$9.50," I say, opening the register anticipating giving her change.

She hands me $9 and a dollar coin exactly. "Keep the change. It's charity."
I stare at the note. Its half an hour until my shift ends. Can I lock up early?

Graham put down his iPhone and turned to Ivy.

"Well? Does that make any sense to you?" he asked.

Ivy, engrossed in stuffing a donut in her mouth, spluttered, coughed and tried again.

"No idea," she said. "American money."

"Yeah, but don't the numbers, the quantities seem a little off to you?"

"Dunno," she said, popping the last bit of dough in her mouth. "They're funny with those kinda things. Americans. Non-metric weights and measures. Stuff like that."

Graham made a face. "Guess so, but I don't understand the point of the story and it's irritating that they don't explain."

"Don't sweat it, Gray." Ivy chuckled. "Write something yourself."