Glinting in the sun a gold pile worth maybe a thousand dollars lies with the afternoons dust, swiped together by Nance’s broom. She sighs, Where do they keep getting these? I cleaned yesterday and found at least as many coins.
A dragon, about the size of a small cat, lands on the pile and barks at her, fire escaping its narrow mouth. She swings gently at it with the broom, and the pest flies off while barking at her. Nance sees gold glitter in its closed claw. She shakes her head while emptying the dustpan, with the remaining gold, in the trash.
Het doosje met alles 
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