Ten dollars, no, nine! Too low, have to decline. How much did you have in mind? How about twenty? No way! I can get buy it brand new. What is this verbal dance that buyers and sellers do?

I am a tower built of layers, held between two matching walls. I’m the hero of the lunchbox, but I fall apart if you lose your grip.

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I’m born where wandering waters slow, A many fingered hand where rivers meet the sea. In numbers I’m the change you come to know, In letters I’m the fourth, but you still call me, me. What am I?

I have a shiny suit, six legs, and zero respect for personal space. Spelled differently, I caused mania over six decades ago.