The coin wasn’t small, wasn’t large. It was exactly the size it was supposed to be. Jordan flipped it as though it were boiling, and when it landed on heads she recoiled in fright. “This is wrong,” she cried. “It’s all wrong. Who brought this?”

“You insisted,” the priests all shouted. “There were no stipulations. You cannot back down from this. It is finished.”

Jordan collapsed and they carried her out, toward the volcano. The heat was unbearable, but would not last long.

On the way down, she whispered, “Should’ve asked for the trick quarter.”


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