On the bus ride home from my summer job, I couldn’t get the bank teller’s face out of my mind. The line had been long, but I’d stood there waiting on it anyway because I was out of spending money. Having nothing to read, I watched the tellers absently, but the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman at the first window seemed familiar, so after a minute I looked only at her. She seemed unsure of herself as she nervously counted money, and she only glanced at a customer for more than a second at a time. Even when it was my turn, I watched her from the next window, pretending not to. She peeked at me once, maybe sensing that I was staring, but didn’t look over again. There was a defeated slope to her shoulders, and sometimes she blinked rapidly for a moment, as though she were suddenly preoccupied.
literally stories 