113

20 Sep

I couldn’t find my bank card. I showed the teller some cards, but he said, no, they weren’t the ones. I was on the floor, sorting through my cards, when I finally remembered it was in a different pouch. Someone who was standing in line behind me, a rocker type with long, scraggly blond hair and smelling of cigarettes, suggested I come back another day. I told him I wasn’t coming back. I gave the card to the teller, but he was off shift and had to read all the information into his phone, which looked like a Band-Aid, but then I saw that he had on earphones.

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