What you do with the seat belts in your car. I'm also a way to tell someone that you're tying your shoelaces. In America, my first four letters are worth a dollar.

First is passed from a good meal, or bad, but hopefully it passes in peace, without a smell. Second is a place for turning, sometimes for grinding, often for more. Put together, I am a foe to an imaginative knight, whose dreams led to battles falsely fought.

My big, little brother is only half of me. To drop me, you lose, tell, or throw it perfectly. You can slow down, but it’s more effective if you stop on me. Trade me in for a dozen, a cheap shopping spree.

In the corner, standing tall, where treasures find their temporary stall. A keeper of stories and a collector of dust, where favorite things linger, as they must.

You probably have twenty but a hardware store has many more.