Liberty Bank: A Fictional Narrative

“You must be Kelly,” the teller greeted me as I moseyed through tall glass doors. Liberty Bank was intimidating, and I wanted to spend the least amount of time inside as possible. The three tellers at their stations were staring at me as soon as I walked through that door. My blushed face and cautious demeanor gave it away that I was the new girl. With all eyes staring at me, they told me to have a seat. I ambled my way to the chair trying not to draw any more attention onto myself. I could feel a nervous pit in my stomach, and it was asking me what I had gotten myself into. I tried my best to casually sit in the chair and wait to be greeted with a stack of paperwork to fill out, but I was finding myself so taken it with this place. I watched the tellers repetitively count out stacks of money, and type something into the computer. They didn’t speak while I was sitting there; however, the television was filling up the awkward silence with home improvement shows. There was an aroma of popcorn behind me, so I spun around and saw bags of it sitting next to the coffee dispenser.
“Hello, I’m Kayla, and I’m the manager here at the Sartell branch,” she spoke with a perky tone. “We just have a few sheets of paperwork to fill out before we start.”
She slid the papers to me with perfectly manicured nails, and I grasped them with my chipped, neon pink nails. I didn’t even know the first question on the paperwork, which was my social security number. I panicked, but she told me it was fine. I had an account there, so they could look it up for me. The rest of the questions were fairly easy and straightforward, until she inquired how I wanted to claim my taxes. I felt a bead of sweat form on my upper lip, because I had no clue what she was talking about. I started to redden, and she could tell.
“I’ll just put single, okay?” She questioned.
“ Yeah, that will work,” I