money in the wind

I was sitting inside at a vast open window, looking out at people passing by while I sharpened coloured pencils. There must have been hundreds of pencils and I had to sharpen them all before I could draw. The bucket of pencil shavings was half-full and my sharpener was dull. For some reason, my wallet was sitting on the window sill and every so often money would flutter out and blow into the street - ten dollars, twenty dollars, fifty dollars. Each time, people made an effort to help catch my money and return it, but a few times the money was lost. Once, a dog snatched my money out of the air and ran away with it in his teeth.