I spotted it as soon as we stepped in the door, nestled in a huddle of coffee shop goers eagerly awaiting their double shots. I knew this pickup ran the risk of social awkwardness. Like every time I faceplanted the floor in the grocery line for a rogue penny. Or combed for coin at the car wash, where people literally tossed money out their side doors. Money was valuable to me now, and getting over the shame of picking it up made me feel brave. I was starting to see myself as a penny renegade, falling right into the moment when a shiny coin blinked up at me. Receiving money - however it came - was more important than sideways stares . . . in theory. I admit, even with my growing coin collecting courage, if the positioning of a dive was sure to elicit weird looks, I left it to Jimmy. He just didn't give a fuck what people thought. A penny renegade, through and through.
"Psssst - Jimmy! Come-ere," I canceled out my half-whisper with conspicuously excited body language. "Get that penny."
I giggled as he swooped his leg across the glazed cement with one swift slide, rocketing the penny into open terrain. I giggled a little more as people darted judge-y glances in our direction. Then they fell away, as he placed the penny in my hand, I snapped a picture and we made another memory of a moment in which life was good and things were working out for us.