Thinking of his agony on that day still makes me shiver. I’d never heard it raised, save for that one time at my mother’s funeral. “David, turn around, please,” my father said.
Everyone showed so much variety back then. The different shapes of faces, the hairstyles, the clothing, the expressions. I knelt backward on a chair that was too big for me, watching the flow of people. Men and women streamed in and out, as if the room were the heart of some enormous beast, pulsing with a lifeblood of people and cash. Two large revolving doors opened onto the street, with a set of conventional doors to the sides. A single open chamber with white pillars surrounding a tile mosaic floor, broad doors at the back that led deeper into the building.
We used the old street names back then, before the Annexation. My father and I were at the First Union Bank on Adams Street.
0 kommentar(er)
