The crisp note

(Piece of fiction written when I was almost dying in absolute boredom, sort of in stealth, when I was supposed to be doing something else. ;) Talk about defying rules of organizations!)

I touched the note. It was new, crisp, and unlike the older ones, soft. The $2 note was a work of art, really. A transparent portion in the corner, so soft and slippery, the crispness by virtue of it being new. I laughed at myself for getting lost in admiration for a $2 note.
The new Singaporean $2 note was good, though. Its softness was what I admired the most. And today was the first time I actually managed to get one in my hand.
It was only when I was staring at the note that I remembered I had to give my friend $2 for the food she bought for me. : ) I went, note in hand, briskly walking to her room. I trampled on wet grass, another of my favourites, for its softness.
“Ha!” I laughed today, for the note in my hand was softer. Equally fresh, and I can say, ‘green’. Slippery.
I stroked the note again, for the umpteenth time ever since it got into my hand. It would’ve made more sense for me to keep the note with myself, but I knew I’d spend it someday. Let it be today, I thought.
The note fell out of my hand as I was stroking it. I ran behind it, and the note sped ahead, determined not to get into my hand. Playing truant. Eluding me. I ran with more desperation as it neared the grilled cover of a small drain.
And it happened.
It got caught on the grill, and right when I was about to grab it, it went in. Rather, it slid into the drain.
I looked at it go inside and get lost.
Slippery, the word came back to me.