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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: