At exactly 9:00, I entered the Bidwell Exchange as Nadia clicked her iPod and took to her toes.
While bank employees gathered to watch the beautiful ballerina perform in front of the main door, I moved to the cashier’s window and presented my note. The teller opened his drawer and handed me a plain black bag. I thanked him and left the building.
Nadia completed her pirouette, retrieved her iPod and joined me in the waiting car. We turned the corner and the teller jumped in as the alarm went off.
For us, it was just another day, another dollar.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, August 9, 2013.)