Wednesday, 24 December 2008


She stuffed fat bundles of used notes through the hatch, so much of it, as if she was depositing booty from holding up the bank around the corner, or the sleazy winnings from an all night poker game. 

The clerk's mouth fell into a frozen O. 

Dorothy chatted, carefree, looking like she did this all the time, like they were all old pals. The clerk occasionally managed to bring his mouth closed to shape an odd syllable while his grinning colleague counted and counted and counted, like all his fantasies were coming true before the Christmas party booze began to flow.

I could feel the brittle rub of banknotes flicking past the greasy money grub of cashier hands against a background haze of customers smiling to themselves.

In case you are wondering, she was dressed as Dorothy.