Needing to get some cash on a Saturday afternoon, I find myself walking down the Main Street in my town, stopping into a few buildings along the way. First building on the block is a MMA gym, boxers practicing on punching bags and sparring together. A small old-fashioned TV in the corner broadcasts sports highlights. They have an ATM that doesn’t charge a fee in the back, but when I get back there, its out of order.
Next door is an art studio. I could try find my friend who works there often. Then I could Venmo her for cash without having to pay an ATM fee. I walk in to a room filled with focused young artists- at first, silent, save the quiet scratching of pencils on paper and classical baroque music playing from a radio. The relative silence is then broken by the roar of a starting fire and clattering of metal tools as a sculptor prepared to work in the back room. However my friend isn’t there.
Upon returning outside, my ears are briefly deafened by incredulously loud sirens, as a fire truck passes by, flanked by two police cars. My last choice is the bank at the end of the block. I walk in through large glass doors, entering to a couple businessmen whispering discussions of Wall Street and investing. Off to the side, someone’s evidently been saving up their coins for a while, dumping a bucketful into a coin-for-cash machine. Walking over to the ATM, I withdraw some cash for the week, reluctantly having to pay that frustrating ATM fee.
