short fiction · 2026-10-26

The Currency of Yesterday

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

In a city where people could hand over moments like coins, the elderly bartered childhood laughter for the taste of fresh rain, while the young sold whispered secrets to buy textbooks. Each memory was catalogued on a silver ledger, its pages glowing faintly as value fluctuated with emotion. A merchant named Elowen priced nostalgia at a steep discount, claiming that genuine wonder could not be quantified, yet the city council insisted that every second be measured in data points. When I watched a child trade a bright summer afternoon for a single tear of grief, I realized that the true price of happiness was the willingness to lose it. The ledger glimmered, then fell silent, as if remembering had become too heavy to carry.