21Jun/110
ATM
She turned and spat (Over the shoulder shot, please note): I eat girls like you for breakfast.
I thought it certainly seemed so. Just a moment ago I had said – Excuse me, but there is a line.
But she had rushed past me to wedge herself between me and the door. In she got, ready to lick her rupee notes. I fixed my gaze on a crow pecking a dead rat. Tall, broad. No use. I had been as assertive as a wall they ask people not to pee against.
She shoved her ATM card into the machine. Beep beep. Blink blink. It ran with the allure of a casino slot machine. What would it pop up? Bananas in a row? Clowns? She punched in her pin no. And then... nothing.
The slot machine jammed.