Specks of Doubt (Monsy)

[DeVir]

Je Sun Hee didn't often curse. Such "crude" behaviors had been squeezed out of her as a young girl in the way one might wring out a washcloth. But as she gaped at the bank teller device in front of her, Hee uttered a quiet but ire-filled "fuck" and looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was listening to her. No one was listening. No one was even waiting to use the same device since it was too early in the day for much of anyone to have been off work and withdrawing money. But three people had used the device to her right while she had been standing there, and Hee, sporting a casual blouse and shorts, still couldn't get the machine to spit her card back at her. She pulled on it again, hoping magic had released it. It had not.

Hee couldn't remember the last time she had set foot in a bank, much less used anything within one. Her father had managed his daughters' finances with an eye for detail reserved for brain surgery. During her recent travels, she had her agent deal with moving her finances when needed. In Japan, she wanted to establish her independence and take care of these small (presumably small, until now) matters on her own. She needed a few yen to pay for groceries at some smaller market stalls that didn't accept cards over the coming week, and she had thought she would step into the bank to get it. Ten minutes, tops. A woman liberated.

She didn't claim to be a fool despite her lack of experience with something so basic; everything up to this point had been easy enough for a five-year-old. The money was given and in her purse. She held a receipt. She understood plenty of Japanese and certainly more than enough to comprehend that the machine had reached the point where it wanted her to do... something before it let her have her card. But she couldn't understand for the life of her what that something was. She tried hitting a few buttons again.

And she would not be wandering away to ask anyone. She was, for one, too paranoid about leaving her card since it could have been snatched by someone capable of using the machine unlike Hee herself. Secondly and most importantly of all, that would be admitting defeat.

So she cleared her throat and tried to eye the actions of the person at the next booth, but his child stepped in the way. Hee rolled her eyes, licked her lips, and pulled at the card again. This was the one time she preferred having daddy do everything for her.

[Monsy]

Who am I tonight?

She asked five minutes into her walk. Who am I? And repeated the blanks, filling them in slowly. It wasn’t exactly from scratch. Just picking a number between one and seven. Seven profile folders sitting back at her desk, next to a gutted mechanical arm she was taking apart to fix a loose actuator. Turns out the hand had the chumpiest little index fingers, somehow sitting loose in a tight fist. The hydraulic fluid made a mess, sending her virtually back to square one. She needed some air for a while. Who am I?

Jane D Dorothy from Arizona or Harmon Miller from Virginia
Twenty six years old and single, but recently having a break-up or thirty but with the biggest maine coon.
English Teacher or Secretary
Formally studied here or Virginia State University.

Her hair was black tonight with straight bangs across then shoulder-length going down, relatively straight, neat and tidy. She wore a cream-coloured turtleneck sweater, paired with a long dark skirt. For the most part, it was warm. But Jane needed some more style. Start an unhealthy Dolly Parton obsession, have a perfume of pine or honey, although Jane didn’t like fragrances. She didn’t like being without her headphones, and was the type to focus on the track than her directions. Sometimes.

Tonight's fun didn't quite have an aim, but where she ended up was ideal. Quiet.

No cars, people in pairs or focused on their cell phone, head-phone and deadpan. She stood at the street corner having just crossed, touching her hands that somehow still felt cold. She walked on, breathing into her own hands as the autumn winds breathed down her nape. When she stopped to rub her hands together, she looked over and saw a pocket of people at the ATM. Or, in her codex, a couple of Apple Trees. Pluck the lowest one, and the money of idiots works just as good as a businessman. So when put to herself like that, Jane couldn’t help but throw herself at the idea, changing direction to take the machine on Je’s left. She was thinking about hitting a ramen stall, although the idea of eating ramen itself was unappealing. The broth was what she wanted, but can one even order a ramen bowl without the ramen?

Tap tap

Jane tapped a blue card against the machine. It was more of a clunk, clunk from the hollow metal. She fed the machine her card, ran through the steps, the language preference and the choices for yen or USD. Periodically, she’d look over and see their progress. She sensed an issue, but it took another three glances to interpret what. After choosing yen, she was met with a goodbye graphic and a light-up green sensor about her lower-abdomen. It spat out five ten-thousand dollar yen bills, then a receipt from a slip of dark-blue plastic. She plucked the receipt, then the cash, then looked over.

“Oi.”

She pulled the clip of bills now folded in her hand. “Shihei.” Before taking her hand, lowering it to the cash slot, then pulled air. Then she withdrew the card, showed it for about a second, then stowed it.