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2002-05-15 They keep the counted drawers in the freezer at the small, simple donut shack I work at. Before my shift, taking coins out to be counted. Each one fogged up in my hand, each a sliver of ice that had to slip from my thumb and index finger individually to bump up the decimal left slowly. It was cold last night. The next rundown person always enters frigid and worn and I go to count my money again. Still cold. I can't count. The money never adds and this feeling of an unsure dollar never quite amounting. And waiting, and icy insides. I wonder if it'll ever be countable. |