White shirt neatly tucked into your blue jeans, that was what you wore as your manly cologne announced your presence. Time stood still when my eyes caught your face.
It was not the most handsome face I have seen but something about it drew me in, the dark circles underneath your eyes, the baldness of your head and the red of your lips.I watched you walk up to my cubicle and take a seat.
“Are you the customer service officer? ”
I managed to croak a “yes, I am”
There was a sign up there to indicate I was the customer officer, but I was too drawn in to notice the silliness of your question.
“I was debited by your A. T. M without being paid” you said.
I wanted you to rattle on, while I drank in the view of you. You didn’t, a man of few words I guessed.
I asked you questions a customer service officer of a bank would ask- “which bank’s card did you use? How much did you try withdrawing? What time did this failed credit happen? “.
You looked like all the questions suddenly dropped a huge burden on your shoulders.
You were about to speak when I cut you in, I had to rescue you from the task of speaking any more than you wanted to.
“It would be reversed within the next twenty-four hours,” I said.
I neglected the other customer calling my attention, my eyes had better things to do. I watched as you stepped into the man trap door and then some more till I couldn’t see you.
I should have logged your issue, I knew debits on visa cards were difficult to reverse.I could get into trouble but seeing your face again and drinking in your fragrance was worth the query.
I woke up earlier than 5. 30 am, lipgloss and white powder wasn’t moral support enough to catch your attention. A little help from my make up kit was sure to do wonders.
Every time the man-trap door opened I found myself taking a deep breath, hoping it would be you. I pictured what our conversation would sound like all through yesterday.
You would walk into the bank wearing a frown I’d consider cute on your face, you would smell exactly like you smelt yesterday, you would wear a black T-shirt that would expose the ripped muscles the white shirt hid, you would say, ” nothing was done about my complain yesterday, I still haven’t been credited.”
I would smile and say” I knew you’d come.”
And you would respond,” Of course, who would give up a chance at having a pretty lady solve their problems.”
I’d blush and say “Lunch is in an hour, would you have lunch with me? I promise this knight in black shoes will fix your account issues.”
“I don’t see why not ” you’d say with a wide grin spread across your face.
We would walk out of the banking hall, and over a plate of hot Jollof, you’d be more than another handsome face.
The man trap door let you in, I thought I was ready for this, ready to shoot my shot. The spike in the beating of my heart said otherwise. A pretty lady got into the bank right after you, she was tall, fair and really pretty, she carried a child that looked like your miniature. It could be a coincidence I thought as you both walked down to my table.
“Baby, you can sit over there with Junior, I won’t be too long.”
It was confirmed, all you’d ever be is a banker’s crush.
With a look of disappointment on my face, I asked, “Good afternoon sir, what can I do for you today?”
Written by Adaeze Agunwah.
Adaeze Agunwah is an irrevocable art lover. “What is life without ART?”,she asks. Adaeze believes art brings meaning to life.
“With my writing i tell stories, mine and others. Stories that reveal things the mouth might fail to tell.”
To read more of her stories, you can visit her blog http://adaezeagunwah.com/
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