The broken piggy bank hit the porch with a sharp crack.
Everyone stared.
I expected quarters.
Pennies.
A handful of folded dollar bills.
Instead, dozens of small pieces of paper spilled across the wood.
The police officer immediately crouched down.
Carefully.
Very carefully.
As though he were handling evidence.
My heart started racing.
“What is that?”
The officer picked up one of the papers.
Then another.
Then a third.
Each one was folded into a tiny square.
