Rasa kept the canister behind the counter next to the register, where coins slid into a jar labeled “Stories.” People who came in for coffee asked if they could borrow it to show to their friends. Rasa lent it, then received it back with new notes tucked inside: a child's drawing of a stage, a scrap of paper with a dance step scribbled on it, a receipt for donated chairs. The film had become an object of exchange.