Tips

"Thank you, ma'am, I greatly appreciate it." The jar's boy was slumped nonchalantly against a tree, playing an old guitar and hoping to wake the spirit of the drifting musician in the passersby. _Clink_ went the spare change as it hit the bottom of his livelihood. The song continued.

"Get me, I'm Bob Dylan," he murmured with a smile.

The jar was christened "Tips". Its title was scrawled in permanent marker on a piece of duct tape, secured lovingly to the side that viewed its audience. Wrinkled dollar bills that had seen the world, state quarters and a button or three resided inside, for the time being. The _twang_ of the guitar was the soundtrack to their brief lives together.

People came and went; guitar strings snapped, and money was spent. At the end of the day, there were but two: the jar and the boy. The boy and the jar. Clink, "Thank you!", strum, clink.

The melody goes on.