Last night, right before bed, T,. decided she wanted to count all the money she had in the new piggy bank my sister gave her for her birthday. I lay on my side in her bed, under her pink comforter, in the semi-stupor I've been in for some days now following this stomach bug, and waited for her to finish. She chatted on cheerfully to herself, counting out her wealth.
"Why don't you put it all back again?" I suggested to her sleepily.
She turned the bank over and began dropping the coins back in, one by one. They made a loud metallic sound when they hit the bottom.