I Went To Cancel An Old Bank Card After A Funeral—The Teller Asked Me Not To Leave

in my back pocket. I’d carried it for five years without touching it, like a splinter I couldn’t quite dig out.

Today, that ended.

“Next customer, please.”

The teller was young—mid-twenties maybe, with perfectly styled hair and a name tag that read “Jessica.” Her smile was professional, practiced, the kind that comes from corporate training videos about continue reading …