Frederick Douglass Quarter Errors Novels & Stories

“What’s wrong? Can’t tell what era my precious coin is from?” Frederick fought back his disgust and muttered, “Could you please stop kissing it?” This only made Finn more obstinate. “Jealous of my fine piece, are you? Well, I’ll keep kissing it!” He continued showering the coin with kisses until Frederick couldn’t hold it in any longer and, with a strained expression, blurted out, “That coin was used on a corpse.”

"But first, I think a reunion is in order." "A reunion? With who?" He exhales heavily, standing straight as he dips his hand into his pocket. “You know, for years I prided myself on precision and have never made mistakes or miscalculated. But just because….. because of her—Emma wilfred,” he smiled as if he was recounting something amusing, “I ended up with a counterfeit.” Counterfeit? Was he talking about money? Or... "But still, I think counterfeit still has their uses. Just like you. "

Frederick's forehead creased at Esteban's words, and even Anna glanced over. "If you look closely at that bag, it certainly looks expensive and like it's from a famous brand. But look." Esteban took the bag from Frederick's hand, surprising him even more. "Didn't you notice that the tag is just stuck on, like the ones on the original design? It's obviously a knockoff." "What are you talking about? Are you crazy?" Frederick protested, but the nervousness on his face was clear. Esteban's words were true, but Frederick couldn't understand how he knew such things. It only made him more furious.

The saleswoman was puzzled, as it was her first time seeing the black gold card. Jennifer's face turned dark instantly. "Frederick, don't tell me you dared to pull out four million just because of this card with no bank affiliation?" "What? No bank affiliation?" Calvin, who was about to leave, burst into laughter upon hearing this. "Hahaha! I thought you actually had forty million! So, you're trying to fool us with a worthless card?" "Is it a fake card? Just try swiping it on the machine," Frederick said calmly, his face unchanged.

The magazines never fully gave the whole details, always leaving her wondering about who was in attendance—not that she cared for the popular people, but simply because she wanted to know who would get the stamps. Bridgette had been an avid collector since the very moment an older gentleman had given her his collection during her time at the hospital. It had been a light in what she could only describe as a dark period in her life—being in constant fear of the unknown and of when her father might end her life. One of those stamps sat prettily displayed in its little box. I could see her hands itching to touch it, but she knew that was downright impossible. It was an impossibly rare 1840 Penn