Chapter 1 - Change Bag

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's a change bag."

"What do you mean it's a change bag?"

A baffled look besets the storekeeper, I cannot tell if he is withholding laughter or anger. "It's a bag, that holds change. That's why it's called a change bag."

"Surely there must be something special about it," I inspect the plain black bag, with an equally dark drawstring, and cannot discover anything special about it.

"Why must there be more to it?" I sense he is definitely withholding anger now, not laughter.

"But," I continue, "how can such a small black bag, with nothing more than a ratty drawstring, command such a steep price of 50 nero?" I recall that just last week I had purchased a new dress shirt for a mere 30 nero; it is, however, the price of the item that creates some intrigue for me.

Without haste, he speaks an answer, not at me, but more to the store in general, of which incidentally is occupied only by myself and the storekeeper. "Look, sir, this is a change bag, it holds change, it has come to me after a great deal of searching by its former, and sole, owner. Its history is just that, nothing more. While you may find such an item across the way for a substantially lower acquisition cost, you will not find one with such a short history."

Doing nothing more to convince me of its value I can not help but be further attracted to the item. The shopkeeper spoke with such zeal that I do not doubt the veracity of his statements, yet I feel my understanding of the relevance is lacking. As far as change bags go, this one is not particularly nice by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps the sole owner was a man of power and fame, or perhaps there is something I as of yet do not understand. I suppose only the bag knows its true history.

Growing impatient with my quiet pondering, the angry shopkeeper stammers "I see you find no worth in my wares, so if you would kindly return it to me and be on your way I will find someone of higher stature who will gladly accept my offer."

As he is about to continue, I quickly interject, "I'll take it."

A confused, almost bewildered, look paints his face, and he almost stumbles back a step. "You'll take it?"

Apparently, thinking he'd lost me as a customer already I can understand his surprise, "I'll gladly accept your offer of 50 nero for this lovely change bag."

As he hands me the change bag I notice a slight smirk cross his face; obviously, he feels he has gotten the better of me in this deal. Nonetheless, I am not dissuaded by his expression and thus make a prolonged examination of my newly acquired purchase. Inside I discover a small note, which reads, "To my new owner, hopefully together we may discover our nature."

I am perplexed by this unusual note. Why would somebody leave such a writ in a bag, a writ proclaiming a sentient nature of the bag, and that somehow we share a nature? Quite confusing, yet overwhelmingly curious in any regards, so much so that I am feeling compelled to determine the true origin of this bag.