Small Change

Paul could not fight his gridlock. His company would not find him, as no one wanted to find a Neuman. The feeling of defeat coursed through Paul. He ambled up to the fountain in front of Watershed Heights, the place where he was taught. Knowing Ceili would not come he seemed to be more than okay with the fact. Ceili, Dr. Gallagher, those types of prey were in his past. The Jaguar slumped in the parking lot that it chose so long ago, lined in a row of other cars that seemed unmoving, silent as a graveyard. Jaguars weren't meant for this city.

Paul looked down into the waters of the fountain, though it was a small miracle that the fountain could still work, it was even more impressive that the water was so clear. Paul took what he had out of his pocket. Three Pennies that's all he had. One of the pennies seemed clean and pressed, Abe Lincoln shining glistening face, yet the other side, the inner Abe could not be seen through all the muck and grime that seemed hidden by the shinier face.

The other two pennies seemed to connected by some gum-wadded muck. Paul pawed at them turning them around in his hand. He could tell by the mint date that this penny's seen some better days, he could not really tell where it had been, but the second penny seemed to trail to it. Even as he tried to pull them apart it seemed that the more they became separated the more you could see a marred side, something that should best be left alone he thought. At least they had each other.

This is all that Paul had of his former fortunes. He thumbed them looking into the fountain. Odd he would be one of the first ones (that he knew of) to make a wish. Yet it seemed a sad thing. These pennies, once thought of the full dollar only wishing to find their place in someone's wallet. Yet here he could use one to hope for a brighter day. Just as he placed his hand back in his pocket he looked up to the roof of Watershed Heights. Maybe this was fountain was what they really wanted, he could not buy anything with three pennies. The most these three could hope to achieve was to get lost in one of his developing holes. "No, even if this is for my wish" he said aloud, "This is where at least one will rest."

He turned the shiny single penny heads up, working it over as he thought, tails, placing it on his thumb. Heads up. Abraham looking towards the sky. He gave it a sharp flick and the penny tumbled from the air and into the fountain face down. Tails.

Just as Paul seemed lost in thought thinking maybe the Jaguar could be sold for money. One of the pennies still in his hand severed from the pair leaving the scar fully available unhealed. Just like that, the third penny tipped on his finger before being finally pulled off by his companion. Funny. Paul was going to toss it in after his friend, but it need not his help to know where he wanted to be. Paul looked into the water, 3 pennies face down. Paul shifted looking at the reflection of himself, his suit a different shade entirely, yet he seemed to maintain a sort of trampish appeal. Paul shrugged pacing away. "I guess 3's the charm."

Each penny just needed a little push I guess. Paul would never realize that Mr. Paul Neuman, would probably have scoffed at tossing away any money when he still had his health and his intellect. Neuman was a far way away. The Neuman name no longer existed. To Paul, it only seemed natural, there was nothing fruitful for pennies to keep getting scratched and scuffed if they can't function as currency. He was charitable. From whence it came from fortune it might give birth to some new treasure. He flicked each one, it seemed they were spent right then and there. Spent before they hit the ground. A silent eulogy of whistling wind with a little plop.

Paul contemplated his new situation. What was there left here? He was officially broke. Yet something seemed to poke out through the crack in his former bravado. He looked up to the roof again. It seemed like he was spent too. Yet this idea could be no more ridiculous than the wish he just made. Paul would find his new worth. He was a new man after all. And even if he were to get dropped he probably just get back up, that was just his luck. He sauntered off back to his room. From now on Paul would always land on his feet.

The Lights are on but Nobodies Home

Paul couldn't focus. Too many things whirred through his mind. The newspaper declared the Neuman fortunes to be inherited as the company's owner... Paul's father took a turn for the worst and died sooner than anyone expected.

The first thought that Neuman thought of was getting back home quickly to receive the inheritance and carry the legacy. To work to his new position and take his rightful place after this mind boggling ordeal. Yet something in Paul made the idea seem week... made Neuman seem week. This only seemed to resolve as Paul pulled softly on his collar as if feeling tagged with new fate.

There was no way to get home. The Jaguar may be able to run, but it was no match for the sheer mileage that removed him from his comfort place, his workplace. By the time Paul had read half the article he stopped dead, reading something he wish he hadn't. "In the instance that Neuman's heir is nowhere to be found, the company's and Neuman's personal attorney will temporarily direct it in their capable hands." Without warning the lights flicked on.

A line formed and a million kinds of alluring and intoxicating aromas filled the air, the power restored. Paul sat there sapped. There was no way to get home. No way to contact home. And no one who would know where he is, let alone care where he is. This was their plan all along, father probably didn't even have a learning experience in mind. Now the Neuman fortune is secured in the hands of theives. This couldn't have happened. There needs to be justice, there needs to be closure. Paul felt slightly uncomfortable at this realization. The revelation that the Neuman name no longer existed.

Paul walked sullenly out of the dinner having smelled his favorite apple pie. Yet it seemed that nothing would save such a shell. Not even sweets would brighten this sad change. He felt like a broken man, in wallet, in spirit, and in desire. He could not reconcile this future, he could not pitch a new deal, work with fate as a client, expand his resources. He could not contemplate what was next. What was to fix something like this? He thought back on his Rushdie. To be born again first you must die...