I grew up 3 blocks from my elementary school, so I would walk to school everyday. One time in 5th grade I found $5 on the ground beneath a car parked along the street. Pretty much ever since that day, whenever I walk down residential streets, I imagine finding large stacks of money hidden from plain sight but apparent to my watchful eyes.
Last night I went for a cigar walk, and just as I was about to prematurely put out my cigar, I decided to walk a few more blocks to finish the rest (to show respect to the Partagas factory workers). I turned around on Ocean Blvd. to head back to 4th St. and there it was, staring at me in its crumpled, dusty glory: a $10 bill. This discovery felt good, but probably not as good as the idiot felt that found the $100 bucks I dropped in the Santa Monica Public Library. But still.
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