Pockets
"A two and a half inch folding pocket knife. Black plastic grip, a white residue about the diameter of a pencil eraser lingering in the depressions of the grip on one side." He tried opening the knife and it didn't fully unfold. He eyed the locking middle and then blew in the spot. He used two fingers to fully remove the sky blue lent that had emerged. Now the knife clicked straight. "Stainless steel. Made in Portland." He clicked the release in with one hand as he used the other to fold the blade back into the grip. "A 1984 dime minted in Denver." He gripped the dime with both hands and spun it. As it hummed in rotation, he picked up the keys. "Three metal keys. One looks to be a house and the other two are to the door and engine of a Chevy. The key ring has a white plastic AA tag for three months." He set the keys down, avoiding a collision with the still spinning dime as it slowly crossed the white tabletop.
"And?"
He looked up from the table, "And a pack of Juicy Fruit with three sticks still in it. Been exposed to some heat." The coin wobbled once, then two more times in quick succession before falling over.
The standing man took a deep breath. "Why do you ask them to empty their pockets?"
He didn't look up this time. He spun the dime again and let his eyes glaze over its steady spin. "Do you remember that Jimmy Eat World Song?" He closed an eye and wrinkled his nose, "Lucky Denver Mint."
"You've been down here too long Mac." He turned, opened the door and let it slam behind him.
The coin wobbled and fell back to its side.