He picked it up.
“Ma’am, you dropped…”
He stopped mid-sentence.
He was staring at the back of the button.
At the tiny symbol stamped into the brass.
A crown.
Above the number 17.
“Where did you get this?”
Grandma looked confused.
“It was always on the coat.”
“How long have you had it?”
“Since I was 19.”
The guard’s face changed.
“Ma’am, don’t leave.”
The woman behind us laughed again.
“Seriously? You’re questioning an old lady over a button?”
The security guard immediately reached for the radio on his belt.
Click.
Then he stepped in front of the department store’s main exit.
“Nobody leaves.”
The rude woman scoffed.
“Are you serious? Over an old button?”
But the guard wasn’t even looking at her anymore.
He was staring at the tiny symbol stamped into the brass.
He called the store manager.
Whispered something I couldn’t hear.
