Story 4 – The Boy Who Returned the Coin
The rain had stopped just before evening.
The street still held small pools of water, reflecting the fading sky. Streetlights flickered on one by one, their glow stretching across the damp road.
Ishan walked slowly beside his mother, careful not to step into the deeper puddles. The air smelled fresh, like the world had just been washed clean.
Near the small grocery shop at the corner, something caught his eye.
A coin lay near the curb, half hidden by a thin line of mud. It wasn’t shiny. It didn’t look new. But it was there, alone.
Ishan picked it up.
He held it in his palm for a moment. It felt cool from the rain.
“Amma,” he said softly, “I found this.”
She looked at the coin and then at him. “Where was it?”
“Near the shop.”
They stood quietly for a moment. A man was closing the shutters of the grocery store. An older woman adjusted the basket on her arm before crossing the street.
“It might belong to someone,” his mother said gently.
Ishan looked at the shop. He thought about buying a small candy. He thought about keeping it. It was only one coin.
But he also imagined someone patting their pocket and feeling that something was missing.
He walked toward the shop.
“Uncle,” he said to the shopkeeper, who paused while pulling down the shutter. “Did anyone drop this?”
The shopkeeper looked at the coin and smiled faintly. “Maybe,” he said. “Leave it here. If someone asks, I will give it.”
Ishan placed the coin on the counter just inside the shop.
The shopkeeper nodded. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t a big thank you. Just a simple one.
Ishan walked back to his mother. She didn’t say much. She didn’t need to.
They continued home together.
The sky had grown darker now. A thin crescent moon hung above the rooftops. Water still dripped from a nearby tree branch, falling slowly onto the pavement.
“Does it matter?” Ishan asked after a while.
“What?” his mother replied.
“That I gave it back?”
She smiled softly. “It mattered to you.”
That was enough.
When they reached home, Ishan washed his hands and changed into his night clothes. He felt lighter than before, though he couldn’t explain why.
Later, as he lay in bed, he listened to the quiet sounds of the house—the turning fan, the distant hum of a passing vehicle, the soft closing of a door.
Outside, the rainwater continued to dry. The street returned to its usual shape.
And somewhere, perhaps, someone reached into their pocket and found what they thought was lost.
Ishan closed his eyes.
The night felt honest.
And he slept without carrying anything that wasn’t his.
Review Evenfall Tales: Soft Stories Before Sleep – Story 4.