When Tip Nick had off-handedly mentioned late-night pizza and her stomach rumbled in answer, a brightly colored 3 by 3 cube had appeared on the table by a passing breeze.
"Why, the receipt of course."
"Oh." She turned it this way and that. Numbers flashed along it. Every time she looked at a different side, the numbers seemed to change. "In my world, they tend to be long, white, and made of paper. And the numbers sit quite still. My parents kept piles of them around the house. Tucked in a lot of jacket pockets, too."
"Why in the world would you keep calculations of what money meant to you in the past? Seems much more wise to keep tabs of what money means to you now."
"Huh." She wondered why no one had never thought of that.