He flipped the tiny, copper penny up into the air.

It turned over, once, twice, three times before it hit the water’s surface and sank to the bottom.

Though it settled among the thousands of other pennies, he could still tell which one was his: it was the only one shining in the light of the setting sun.

It was a coin he’d selected especially for this purpose.

Especially for her.

A beautiful 1990 in pristine condition.

He’d bought it on eBay from the son of a coin collector who assured him that the penny had never seen circulation. It was minted, sealed in plastic, and sent to his father directly from the United States Treasury. Upon receipt, the collector had examined it, cataloged it, and then filed it away in a cardboard shoebox he kept underneath his bed.

The penny stayed there, in that box, for twenty-two years until the man died and his son started to sell the collection out, piece by piece, online. And it had been there, amid the silver eagles and buffalo nickels, that he had found her penny.

Four dollars, fifty seven cents, and three days later, the penny arrived in a small, unremarkable envelope with his name scrawled across it in large, untidy handwriting.

“What’s that?” she’d asked him, looking over his shoulder as he held it.

“Nothing.”

And then he walked away, the flowery scent of her perfume clinging to him as he climbed up into his bunk.

It wasn’t until after midnight, when he was sure they were all asleep, that he opened the envelope and slid the little plastic square out onto his palm.  He closed his hand around it and paused a moment to feel the metal warm inside his grip before creeping down from his bunk.

The scissors were in a drawer in the kitchen, and the metal forks clinked like an alarm when he pulled it open.

But no one was awake to hear.

He took a breath and held it as he cut, slowly, delicately, a single straight line across the top of the plastic. Then, just as carefully, he turned the casing over, and the penny slid out onto his open palm.

This was how she had come to him: mint, perfect, and untouched by the world; a shiny new penny fit for you to show off in a pair of loafers. The kind of penny that brings you good luck.

And she had brought him that.

It was for that (and for so much more that) he was willing to break tradition.

So, the next day, when Troy asked him to come to the fountain like they had done every year before, he refused.

He waited.

Pierce and Shirley left first for a meeting with the Dean about her sandwich shop.

Then Jeff for the gym.

Britta and Troy decided to grab a movie.

And she, well, she had stayed with him longest, not wanting him to be alone. Had sat with him for two hours in the study room, organizing and reorganizing her backpack until, finally, he had to ask her to leave.

As he stood before the fountain, the penny clenched in his hand, he thought about all of the wishes he’d wasted over the years.

Money for a new camera.

Another season for Cougar Town.

For things to stay the same.

Three wishes for a thousand more wishes, all of them designed to fulfill him. To make his life better. To fit into his simulated version of how things should be.

But this year was different.

One penny.

One wish.

For the first-last time, he closed his eyes and whispered his wish into the wind:

This would be awesome if not for the fact that in both dreams, I felt isolated and manipulated. For very realistic reasons that totally make sense given Abed's character. 

Community: Season 3, Episode 16 "Virtual Systems Analysis"

Summary: When Troy leaves for ACRA, Annie and Abed comfort each other the only way they know how.