The First Morning's Arithmetic

I woke to the window turning a hazy white. It was my first morning here. The rooftops visible between the curtains were an unfamiliar color, and the air in the room was slightly damp. Out in the market alley, the smell of grilling fish mixed with the dusty morning air. Paying at a stall, a coin rolled from my hand to the ground as I took my change. Foreign coins have a different sound. The owner picked it up and said something as he handed it over, but I couldn't understand. I smiled and bowed my head, and he only nodded, unimpressed. Only after eating did I realize I hadn't properly looked at the prices on the menu by the restaurant entrance. The prices were in dollars, and the way I'd just done the math was the way I did it at home. Strangely, I laughed. The bill was already paid, the receipt folded in my bag. Morning light stretched long across the alley floor. I lingered a while on the boundary between shade and light.