WARNING: Look carefully at this picture because it has so much to tell you.
source: minimalbeing
Downtown.
She enters the building which has now become a bank, she will withdraw money or make a bank transfer; a common action in this area or any area for that matter, nothing out of the ordinary. But what she isn't aware of is the fact; that the events that are about to happen will place a mark upon her life.
Inside you could make out sounds, sounds for some, noises for others. The sound of people talking. The usual sound of people passing over papers, people writing, people signing, or people counting money. The sound of important people, people who cannot handle that their life without money would have no meaning.
She will queue, waiting for her turn. Quiet. Thinking about what she will do next, whether she will call her mother, or perhaps her father to see how he is going on with his European tour. A trip to which she would have gone if it hadn't been for her job.
She could have gone with him. She should have gone with him. She should have made that trip. She shouldn't be here, right now.
She turns her head, looks at the people around her, how they dress, what they do. That way she entertains herself, letting her imagination flow and that's how the time runs until only two people are left in the queue and soon will be her turn.
She stares at the decoration of the building, the paintings on the ceilings, the high inscripted walls and the large french-style windows.
Only one person is left, it will then be her turn.
The building is old but very well preserved. She would have liked to know in what century it was built, who built it, to run her hands along the inscripted lettering. She would have liked to stay here for more time, she would have liked to watch the painted ceilings for some more time. She would have liked to stare some more at the strange mixture of the plushy office furniture and the ancient elements of the building.
But it's her turn.
- Good morning, ma'am. - An old lady greets her, no less beautiful for that. The amount of makeup, she's wearing stands out, those thick and red lips, the pronounced cologne. Her wrinkled hands, accentuated with long neon pink nails. 'It is a work facing the public', that would be her answer if asked.
She turns to her, back to reality, and just at the same moment at which she was going to answer with a weak "Hello", just when she was about to explain to her what she needs, at that same moment a yell is heard.
Her misfortune has just begun.
