I stood frozen in my small shop, staring at the empty drawer. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to process what I was seeing. The velvet pouch that always held Amina’s gold coin gone? Just like that. It wasn’t just a coin. It was the last gift Amina had given me on her death bed before she passed, the only physical piece of her that I had left.

I felt the weight of the loss instantly, deeper than I expected. The coin wasn’t valuable to anyone else, but it had been a reminder of our bond, a symbol of our friendship. Without it, I felt... lost.

I checked the drawer again, even though I knew I’d already searched it twice. Then I emptied the desk, checked my bags, my coat pockets, my entire shop. Nothing. My mind raced had it been misplaced? Or worse, had someone taken it? I couldn’t imagine how, but it felt like the world was turning upside down.

I spent the next few days retracing my every step. I asked everyone I knew, posted on social media, even went back to places I had visited, hoping somehow the coin would turn up. But it didn’t. It was as if the coin had vanished from existence, leaving only its absence behind.

As the days stretched on, I couldn’t focus on anything else. The loss consumed me, overshadowing everything in my life. It wasn’t just the coin I was grieving; it was the connection to Amina that seemed to slip further away. I felt as though, without that coin, I was losing a part of myself.

At sunset, in a moment of frustration, I took a walk by the river near my house. The water flowed calmly, and I sat there for what felt like hours, hoping the peace of nature would help clear my mind. But instead, I found myself overwhelmed by the silence of my thoughts.

And then, something clicked. It wasn’t the coin that kept Amina close to me, it was the memories, the laughter, the conversations we had shared. The love and bond we’d built over the years. The coin, as precious as it was, had only served as a symbol of something much greater: the friendship that had always been in my heart.

I stood up from the riverbank, a sense of clarity washing over me. Amina wasn’t gone because the coin was missing. She was still a part of me, in every thought, every memory. The true value of our friendship wasn’t in a physical object. It was in the way we had supported each other, the way she had always been there for me, and the way I would always carry her in my heart.