A man came into the bank last week. He walked up to my window to make a deposit and he said, "Hello, Scarface." I was a little caught off-guard and reached my hand up to my face a little bit, afraid that perhaps I had a blemish I had scratched and was now oozing out ugly. Or perhaps my whole appearance that day was a little off, it had been a while since I'd looked in the mirror. The man looked closer at my name-plate and announced that he had read my name wrong.
Today he came back to my window. I remembered him instantly. It's not every day that a beautiful girl such as myself is confused as "Scarface."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment