in line

Head bent, the awkward frame was engrossed scribbling letters that never seemed to follow the rule lines of the notebook. A release of deep breath every once in a while. At least the person had something to do to pass time.

It was crowded in the bank. This wasn’t how it’s usually like. There’s a big withdrawal transaction at the counter. The girl had her hair up in a tight bun. Wisps of hair struggled to be free. She wore earphones but not sound can be sensed from her direction. Usually, people get to hear some of the sounds supposedly for private listening. Blame the loud volume levels – or the earphone design.

She wore this tunic of loose southern ethnic decor. Some threads shiny. Majority of the cloth was in black with decorative embroidery in red, white, a little of yellow, and gold threads.

Still, head bent, she scribbled once more. A few squares here and another enclosure there. It’s not easy to make sense of what she was writing. But it required pausing to gather thoughts before writing once more. Her thoughts occasionally disrupted by moving to the seat nearing the teller.

A few minutes more, a couple of glances at the bank clock, and it was her turn. Finally, my turn.

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