The exchange

At one of the pottery shops we visited last weekend, an artist had a display of her hand drawn cards for sale.

Mosely fell in love with a print of a white horse’s head, mane flowing. She held the small card encased in plastic. Admired it closely. Set it down. Walked over to the refreshment table. Wandered back to the card display. Caressed the card again. Put it down. Paused. Asked the artist,”How much does this card cost?”

“$1,” the artist answered.

Mosely sighed. “Oh.” Her shoulders drooped. She reached deep into her pocket. “All I have is one bottle cap.”

(Yes. We gave the child a dollar.)