I’d asked my husband where the miniature spoon came from, and he’d answered my question with the question, “What spoon?” I’d pointed to the floor at the nickel coin, and beside it a miniature spoon. Barry, that’s my husband, had then said, “That is not a spoon. It is a part that broke off my pen.”
I’d thought that interesting, and pondered the image for a while, before I’d snapped a photo. Barry’d then asked, “What is interesting about that, to take a photo of it?” I’d smiled and then told him the story which had teased my brain as I’d soaked in the image.
I’d told him the small specks, that resembled white powder, could be seen by some as lost particles from a nickel of cocaine. He’d roared at that saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of cocaine being sold in nickels!” I’d ignored his teasing and had continued my story, telling him the spoon was the hidden part in the pen. Who’d think the spoon was detachable from the innocuous looking pen, or that it could have such a nefarious use.
He’d laughed, and had asked, “How does this stuff get into your head?” I’d smiled at him, not replying. After all, I didn’t know the answer to that question.
© Zora Zebic 2018