The Coin Collector's Dream

The coin collector was sitting like a log poised over a sofa, staring at the mahogany door which swung as the cold air from outside thrust it. His almost drawn-out eyes never blinked. He had been in that state for quite some time until his back gave in. He slumped slowly, minute by minute. His head sagged and little by little his body dropped down the cushions of the sofa chair. The mere stupefaction had impaired him. His eyes shut at last. He didn't close the door. Or, perhaps he had been unaware of it. He even forgot what he was thinking. He lazily and inattentively hung his legs on the sofa chair, rolled over, and lay like a child in a womb. At dawn, he fell asleep and saw blackness.