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This fragment turns weight and pity into a strangely specific image, giving the draft a sudden note of sharp social observation.

The line is small but memorable. It feels like a shard of voice that values exact comparison over explanation.

Three handwritten lines dangling without antecedent: whatever 'it' is, it 'wasn't any heavier / than a sick old widow in / front of a Chicago Coin.' The comparison does all the work, measuring weight against a frail figure slumped at a coin-op machine, and the Chicago Coin brand pins the image to a real barroom amusement device - a shard of voice prizing exact, slightly cruel observation over any explanation.