The shop assistant hands me an apple. I hand over my last dollar bill.
The greenback – we save it, squander it, win or lose it. It grants to the wealthy, status and power. To those less fortunate, despair and desperation.
I stole it. Watching my family suffer, day after day, left me no option. I’ve become a fugitive. All the greenbacks in the world can’t help me now.
The park is my sanctuary. Lying on the grass surrounded by the first shoots of spring, I bite into my apple.
Nature’s green glory, unscathed by the greenback, warms my soul.