David sighed as another coin hissed across the cheap Formica counter-top, pressed flat by an ancient bony fingertip. A dime, he was sure of it. He’d been standing here long enough that he had become confident in his ability to identify the coins by the sound they made as they were slowly tallied. His eyes lingered longingly on the on the boldly scribed “Out of Order” sign attached to the coin-counting machine by the door.
He checked his watch. He’d been waiting in line for roughly ten minutes. It had seemed like an eternity; and judging from his position—thirteenth from the front—he had a few more to eternities to go.