Stefan was afraid of money—the leathery, scratchy feel of green in his palms, the metallic smack of coins. He sold artisanal crafts at local flea markets, although he turned away cash-paying customers. His bottle-cap mobiles were a big hit. And then it occurred to him: his cure. He kept his eye on the asphalt for stray dollar bills. He spent weeks weaving bills together, George Washington’s face kissing Abraham Lincoln’s. The result was a patchwork quilt; Stefan’s biggest piece yet. Though a bit unwieldy, the quilt worked: for years it was his bargaining tool. His money never exchanged hands.