Robert Hanson

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The two stacks of bills were so small, so seemingly inconsequential, she almost walked right by them. Each stack was only a half an inch high, and they were so incredibly crisp and flat, with a strip of paper around each one, that they seemed more like currency from a newly-opened board game than real money. But there they were, two straps of crisp one hundred dollar bills, sitting smack-dab in the middle of the little round table. Who would leave that much money just laying there in a coffee shop like that? Was it a prank?