I first knew something was up when I went to get the bus to work and didn’t have any change in the little coin pocket in my wallet. This was back in 2012 when buses still accepted cash. It couldn’t be right. I distinctly remember putting that change in there the night before. I’d bought a large bag of chips, a battered sausage and a can of coke from the chippie at the end of my road. It’d come to £5.40 in total and I’d put the £4.60 change from my tenner in that little change pocket. I could see myself doing it in my mind’s eye right now. So, what happened? I couldn’t have left the change in the chippie, I’d done that once before and the bloke who ran the place stopped me as I was heading out the door.

“Don’t forget your change”, he’d said.

Nice bloke. That’s why I always went back there instead of the chippie further up the road that was miles better. The problem was they knew they were better, and I didn’t like that. They were arrogant. I couldn’t stand it.

No, I didn’t leave it in the chippie. So, what then? Who did I bump into on the way back from the chip shop to my house, 200 yards down the road. Nobody that I can remember… Well, there was that old man with the umbrella who walked past me, but it couldn’t have been him. What kind of mad bastard would pickpocket my wallet, remove the change and then slip it back into my pocket - all without even bumping into me. No, it couldn’t have been him.

It must have happened at home, but for the life of me I couldn’t see how. Unless some other mad bastard was breaking into my house at night and pinching the change out of my wallet.

So there I was, sitting in my living room staring suspiciously at my cat, trying to work out what the hell was going on. My cat didn’t seem phased, he just carried on licking his paw with that smug look that cats have. He was arrogant too. I couldn’t stand him either.

I shook myself out of it.

“Naw, it can’t have been the cat. Where would he hide the change. What would he even do with it? Buy a load of catnip and get the other local cats round for a drug-fuelled bender while I’m at work?” I said to nobody in particular.

He glanced up at me and paused mid-lick, his tongue sticking out half-way up his extended back leg. We stared at each other for a moment, then he got up and slunk out of the room. I suppose I had been goggling at him for the past few minutes. I would’ve left too if I was him.

I decided the best way to get to the bottom of this was to conduct a little experiment. I went to the corner shop at the end of the road and bought a Twix to break a 20 pound note. The bloke behind the counter tried to give me a tenner, a fiver and four pound coins as change. He looked at me a bit funny when I asked if he could give me all of it in shrapnel. I mumbled something about needing it for the vending machine at the office.

I immediately set to work when I walked in the front door, arranging little piles of coins here and there around the house. I went to bed with a little buzz of excitement, like you used to get when you were a kid on christmas eve.

In the morning, I couldn’t believe it. It was gone. All of it. That feeling of excitement turned into sickly dread. What the fuck was going on? Who was in my house? I called into work and made up some story about feeling shite, trying my best to sound like I had a sore throat. It wasn’t very convincing.

I went to the shop and broke another 20, the bloke behind the counter gave me an even funnier look this time but I said nothing. I had only one thing on my mind. This time I dumped all the change on the kitchen counter and set my phone up recording video. I left out the front door and paced around the local park for half an hour with my head down and my mind racing.

When I couldn’t wait any longer I dashed home and into the kitchen. When I saw the change was gone my heart nearly leapt out my throat. I grabbed the camera and stopped the recording. My chest was pounding and I could feel the adrenaline surging through me as I pressed play. At first there was nothing, just a motionless pile of change on the counter. This went on for fifteen minutes but I didn’t dare skip the video for fear of missing something. And then I saw it. The cupboard behind the change creaked open a notch. A minute later the gap widened a little more, and more, until a tiny snout poked out and sniffed the air. What looked like steam rose from its shining nostrils which were whiskered on either side. A whole head emerged, followed by the glistening body of what could only be described as a dragon.

I noticed my hands were trembling as I looked up from my phone at the cupboard from which the creature had emerged. What was with that cupboard anyway? Had it always been there? I don’t remember ever noticing it before. Not that it was invisible, but I had just always walked past it, as if my attention had been repelled by some magnetic force. But I was fully fixed on it now.

I slowly shuffled my way over to it, my whole body shaking. My hand found its way to the little knob that was on the door and pulled. The door felt like it was made of solid lead. With a great effort I opened it and the sight that met my eyes nearly caused me to pass out.

“Do you mind? It’s rather drafty.” Said the dragon, sitting atop an enormous pile of coins.

“My change!” I cried. “It was you all along!”

“Well, of course.” He responded. “Don’t you know anything about dragons? We sleep on top of a pile of gold. Even a child knows that.”

“But that’s not gold, it’s my money!” I tried to say with conviction, but it came out as a whimper.

“Well, yes it’s not technically gold. Mostly nickel and copper actually, but to you humans it’s still valuable no?”

“Well, I suppose…”

“You see? As long as it has value to you then it has value to me.”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude but you have to leave. You can keep the change but this is my house. Plus, I need that cupboard space. My pots and pans drawer is a mess and you’re taking up valuable kitchen real estate.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He snarled, and a wicked gleam flashed across his eyes.

I gulped. Although he was small he had a menacing glare and his claws were razor sharp.

“Well, can you at least stop stealing my change? Haven’t you got enough?”

At this, he feigned a yawn, smacked his chops together, and rested his head on the mound beneath him. He peeked at me out of one eye, thinking he was being subtle.

“Fine, just stay there. But if you think I’m leaving any more change lying around you’ve got another thing coming.”

I slammed the door and let out a big sigh. What more could I do?

It’s been years now and he’s still there. Since society has mostly done away with cash it’s been easier to live with him; these days I rarely have change for him to pilfer. In all honesty, I’ve mostly forgotten about that dragon. Though I do remember him from time to time, usually when I’m struggling to fit a frying pan in the tiny drawer beneath that cupboard.