I was staying in a big vacation home with my boyfriend Adam, my mom, and my sister Tricia. The home seemed to be in our actual yard, though it was much bigger than our current house. There were at least six floors, and all of them had brand-new white carpet and impeccable Ethan Allen furnishings. Adam and I were staying on the top floor. We chose this arrangement ourselves because there were no stairways in the house and we therefore had to go out the window and down the side of the house to get to a different floor. It was easy to see through the windows into the rooms of the other floors, and we didn't want anyone going past our floor and looking inside (in case we were doing something dirty, I suppose).
Every day seemed to be bright and sunny when we were staying at the vacation house. One morning, I hopped out the window and slid down a rope to get to the main floor. Somewhere between the top floor and the bottom floor, I found a sack full of money. I knew I shouldn't keep all of it, but I decided I was at least entitled to a small part of it. I took a thick stack of fives, tens, and twenties, and headed to the gas station. I figured I would spend some money filling up my gas tank and then decide from there whether I needed any more money from the bag.
I went to a Texaco station. While filling up my tank, I ran into Karlene, the manager of the motorcycle shop where I had a temp assignment this summer. She inquired about the money, and I gave a stack of it to her. I put the rest of the money in my backpack. When it came time to pay for my gas, I took it out again. I noticed that a lot of the five-dollar bills weren't fully printed. They had green ink on half the bill, but the other half was plain white. I wondered if the gas station would accept them. I then remembered something my mom had told me about only needing sixty percent of a piece of paper money. I figured my half-printed bills would be good enough for the gas station.
