Money is like water in that way. Any bit of it has flowed through countless other purses and hands. From a father’s paycheck to a child’s piggy bank to the cash drawer of the candy store and back. A lover’s wallet to a flower seller’s till. To the jeweler, the baker, the lawyer, the priest. The child sees it for what it is. Thrilled, not to see it fall still, but to see it move. To hear the sound love makes, when you say it out loud.