Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

The boy sat quietly on the worn wooden bench, the old man beside him saying nothing. The park had a dark mood tonight—clouds low and heavy, the scent of wet earth thick in the air.


“He says he found it by the creek,” the skeptical detective in his forties said, arms folded, eyes never leaving the boy. “But it doesn’t add up.”



The old man sighed, his fingers trembling as he turned the small, worn coin over in his palm. “This is a 1913 Liberty Head nickel,” he whispered. “Only five were ever made.”



The boy flinched.


“I was eight when I lost it,” the old man continued. “My father gave it to me. Told me to keep it close. I dropped it near the old willow. Spent a lifetime regretting it.”



“I didn’t steal it,” the boy said, voice shaking. “It was just… there. In the mud. I thought it was trash at first.”



The determined Detective stepped forward. “We'll have to check his story.”



The old man didn’t respond. He looked at the boy, really looked at him—shoes scuffed, eyes wide, something in them fragile and broken.



“Where are your parents?” he asked.



The boy looked down. “Gone. I don’t know where. They left me with my uncle, but he… he drinks a lot. I go out, I look for stuff. I trade it for food sometimes.”



The coin sat heavy in the old man’s palm.



“You keep it,” he said softly.



“What?” the detective asked.



The old man nodded to the boy. “He’s more honest than most. Besides, maybe it was meant to find its way back through someone who needed it.”



The boy blinked, holding back tears. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel lost.