My Prized Possession
It lay on my hand, my most prized possession. It was a coin. Platinum and silver on it were blissfully blended. However, time had made it as grey as the light of a soft moon. It was as smooth as a waveless sea and pale like pastel parchment. Circular and as small as like tiny stars lightening a ruined world. If I dropped it on the white polished floor the clinking sound would ring in my ears, the reflected sunlight would sting my eyes. The coin smelt musty and mouldy. I did not love it because of its looks or value, I loved it because it had a story. My grandfather was a mysterious man. He always seemed to be lost in a world that did not exist. His mother had given him this coin when he was just a boy. It sparkled like a pearl and was as rough as sandpaper then. Its value was one paisa. He had not known what to do with it so he kept it safely. It was not long before his mom passed away the coin being the only thing she gave him, my grandfather valued it a lot. When I was six