Her Two Cents

I trudged up to the tiny old house, my collection can in hand, wondering if our efforts were worth it. My friends and I had gone door-to-door in town, trying to raise one thousand dollars in a week for a girl who had been paralyzed in a car accident. Now it was our last day, and I worried that we wouldn’t make our goal. I’d had no luck at the other houses. Should I even bother? I thought. I’m here. Might as well knock.

“Come in,” said a faint voice. I swung the screen door open, but didn’t see anyone. “Hello?” I called.
“In the kitchen,” the voice answered softly. I followed the sound.

An old woman in a wheelchair peered at me through thick glasses, her gaze settling on the can in my hands. “I’ve been expecting you,” she said. “I read about the accident in the paper, and how some girls were collecting.”

She glanced at an envelope on the table. “The money left over from my social security check is in there. You can have it all.”

I picked up the envelope and looked inside. Two pennies.

“I hope it helps,” she said.