She walked into the banking halls, her pointed shoe announcing her arrival minutes before you saw her. She wore that kind of dress that convinces you heaven missing an angel. The aroma of her perfume would make your head turn and keep your eyes on her. And the phone which she gingerly held to her ear, without minding the security guard frantically waving at her - calls are not allowed in the banking halls - would cost a small fortune.
She stepped forward, picked a deposit slip and searched for a pen, about five guys offered her pens but shame on bad people, she took mine, maybe because I was close to her. After a while, or a long while, because time stood still, she stood up and inched closer to me, whispered, "please can you spell 30 for me?"
I looked down at her deposit slip in surprise, she had written "tarty tausanh"
I hissed and snatched up my pen from her hand.
Beauty no brains.
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