The Visit to the Bank
The very next morning, I took the bus to the local branch and asked for a printed statement. The teller, a young man, typed for a moment before lowering his voice and saying:
“Ma’am… the deposits come in every month, but someone withdraws everything from an ATM almost immediately after.”
I felt the world tilt beneath me. I didn’t even know how to use an ATM.
Something wasn’t right.
I asked to view the security footage. And when the screen lit up, my knees nearly buckled.
There, on the screen, was Melissa.
Calm. Confident. Pulling out stacks of cash from the ATM as if it were hers to take.
