“I saved these wrappers for twenty years, because nothing in a cafeteria ever gets thrown out,” Irene said, and raised the lid.

The box was crammed with flat paper coin wrappers, bundled with rubber bands that had gone stiff and brown.

“Eight hundred,” she said.

“Give or take a dozen or so.”

I picked up one bundle.

The paper smelled of chalk dust and pencil shavings.

“Where’d you keep them?”

“Behind the register at Washington Elementary.