Bread and Dollor Notes.

In the bread shop with family

We walked in briming with confidence, with a trail of fire and glory blazing in our wakes. The silent air reverberated with bristling electric power; the foundations of the bakery shook and trembled even as we entered its domain. The Gods looked down, and they FEARED.

We were a family on a mission- buy bread, and escape before they hunt us down!

We looked around after our prime targets, sausage buns and country bread. The lady in black at the counter watched our every movement obliquely, as though suspicious, as though we were something else other than normal human beings. After quickly picking our selective pieces, we proceeded to the counter.

My father (who declines to be named) took out a few notes and gave it to the lady.


She counted it.


Then she sniffed suspiciously, and looked up.

Horror gripped our hearts, and fear settled down like a heavy cloud. Were we found out? Had it all been for nothing?! The door slammed shut... the lights blacked out... a shrill scream... and then...

Nothing.

Actually, my dad accidentally paid in a US dollar note. ISH.