User:Lexicontra/Sandbox

The Bank Teller
She paid no attention when I walked to the counter. She and her friend, a woman somewhat older than herself, by all appearances, spoke in quiet tones. But the bank, off in a corner of the supermarket, was quieter at 4:58 p.m. on a Friday. She was about to close.

"I don't know," she said, "It's tough. I don't know how I'm going to make it."

"Don't you get . . . doesn't he . . .?" the older woman asked, in the abbreviated grammar used by friends.

"I'm not getting any support," the bank teller replied. She finished counting the rolls of dimes, then turned briskly and walked past the counter where I stood. I remained invisible to her. "And day care went up now to $75 a week," she said over her shoulder. "He hasn't paid child support since . . . I don't know, months. He doesn't do anything for me."

"Oh, my," said the friend. "How is your boy?"