There’s a man that sits on the corner of Queen’s Square. He’s always there. I hear he likes
the Queen; says that she has a familiar face. He occupies the same bench every day, thick
coat and deerstalker hat and a scarf to keep him warm. They call him Mr Change.
Mr Change’s cup is always filled with coins. He just has an aura, I guess. People actually stop
for Mr Change.
I pass his bench as I walk to work. I hear today’s cluster of people from several metres away.
“I think my wife hates me,” says a man in a sharp suit. He looks stunned as he’s saying it.
Mr Change reaches into his cup to take a coin and hand it to the man. Mr Change then says
something. I don’t hear it, but I don’t have to. I already know his catchphrase.
“I think it might rain later,” says the next person, a closed umbrella in hand. A coin from Mr
Change and his usual words follow.
“I think I might start looking for a new job,” says the next, before glancing in horror at the
man beside her.
“I think I’m offended that Sonia wants to leave her job,” says the man. Her boss, I guess.
A coin is given to Sonia and her maybe-ex-boss, followed by Mr Change’s mantra.
Finally I draw close enough and Mr Change looks at me.
As always, my confession spills from my mouth before I even have a chance to think about
it: “I think I want to know more about you, Mr Change.”
Mr Change just smiles knowingly. He reaches into the cup and takes out a coin. He puts it in
my suddenly outstretched palm and says in his soft voice, “Here, a penny for your
thoughts.”
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