“You owe me,” began a voice behind him, “two hundred Sesterces.”
Hall turned fixed on a face he began trying to place. “What? What was that?”
“I’ll be kind and forgive the interest. By now it would be a fortune. Though, I wonder how much a Sestertius is worth simply as an artifact.”
“I don’t know,” stalled Hall. “Sounds like something you could Google, though.” He searched his memory for the eyes, the nose, the smile, the voice, and found nothing. But two hundred Sesterces…
“Callius Veximus! How long has it been?”
“Eighteen hundred and seventy-two years. Give or take.”
Would like to read more of this story!
ReplyDeleteThank you :-)
Deletegreat job, David. Always hate it when the (way way WAY back past) comes to haunt. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you :-)
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