February 3rd, 2004

tank girl

Buffalo Nickel

Buffalo NickelThe woman shrugged deeper into her jacket against the biting cold of the wind. Her fingers closed around a coin in the pocket and she drew it out to examine it again.

It was a strange thing, mirror world money from a country half a planet away. Too big for a five cent coin, too small for a ten. She couldn't even remember where it came from. Forgetting about it completely until she wore the heavy leather jacket again.

One side was a buffalo, the other an Indian head. It always made her smile, reminded her of childhood.

When she was young she would spend holidays with her sister and a hoard of cousins at their grandmother's house. Once the pitch of children's voices went beyond adult tolerance, they were banished to the backyard the amuse themselves. They had two favourite games. One was a variant of golf, where the younger siblings were used as targets by the older kids. This would go a long way to explaining why the real golf balls were hidden and replaced with practice balls. On memorable occasions, the switch was forgotten, resulting in howls of protest and some spectacular bruises.

The other game was cowboys and Indians. In her world the Indians were far more exotic and exciting than boring old cowboys. They had cool weapons, bows and arrows being more enticing than guns, especially when there was more of a chance to inflict bodily damage with the toy version. And they always beat the cowboys.

She put the coin back in her pocket and didn't seem quite so cold any more.

15minuteficletsword #40: examination