"I'm not afraid of death, I just do not want to be there when it happens"

-Woody Allen

He knew he had to get there before they closed. It was already quite late because of the endless traffic on the road, but he knew he could still get there. It was only about ten minutes before they closed. He just had to go in, make the deposit and leave. Simple. He did not have to worry about the parking lot, or the vagabonds who asked for alms at the entrance, or the huge line of customers who were screaming about everything, or any of the typical delays that they make you go through in one of those places. Already most of the stores were closed, people in their houses sleeping and most of the lights of the city turned off. Suddenly there would be two more customers in the bank, but besides that he was alone. Complete and entirely alone.

The traffic was still frozen a few meters from the intersection. The orchestra of whistles and insults that issued from each of the cars bounced up to their ears. He had decided to leave late so that when he arrived, he would not have to go through these kinds of problems. With both hands firmly on the wheel, preparing to turn to the first exit, he absent-mindedly watched the cars in front of him. It wasn’t worth screaming or yelling insults over and over again. After five years he had become accustomed to having to deal with the endless traffic of the city. There was no day when the streets were not full of cars and angry people. From time to time they moved a few centimeters from where they were, but they were again trapped in that vicious cycle.

He turned his eyes to the small digital clock that had been integrated into his old car. Slowly the minutes passed one after the other. There were still about eight minutes to be closed, but as the cars went by, he would surely arrive for the following Christmas. Every minute that passed felt like an hour, crawling slowly through the clock. Inside his mind he cursed himself for having waited until late to do his homework. He knew, deep down, that if he had not decided to take that nap after lunch he would have made the deposit and be quietly lying watching television in his bed, not in his car nodding on the rudder in the middle of an hour and a half trancon. If only I had not made that decision. If only he had not convinced himself that it was better to go later, telling himself that fewer people would be in the place and it would be easier to do so. But it was useless to complain. He could not change anything anymore.

Meanwhile he turned his gaze slowly to the other lane. It was almost empty already. Only a couple of cars were speeding past him and disappearing into the darkness. They are lucky, he muttered to himself. For a moment, he thought of returning to his house and making the transaction the next day. 'It's logical' he thought 'so I get out of this filthy traffic, I do not risk that when I arrive it's already closed, so I have to return with the risk of suddenly filling the way back and ending up in another traffic jam ...' it was quite tempting to turn around and forget everything. He was already near the intersection where he could cross and leave. He could barely think clearly, with the incessant twinkling lights of nightlife dazzling him. But that thought dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

He felt sick and tired. He cursed himself for not paying attention to the doctor for more tests when he told him about his incessant headache. If I wasn’t so stubborn I could have got rid of those pains for months. His eyelids closed slowly over his eyes, clouding his eyes. Each time it became more tempting to go back and sleep peacefully in his bed. At any time you could sleep and cause a huge accident or, worse, more traffic. He looked at the clock again. I felt that it had been about five minutes since the last time. But, half surprise and half discouragement, only a minute had passed. The traffic remained the same, the other lane remained the same, the clock remained the same. Everything in his life remained the same. He sighed slowly in disapproval contemplating how sad his life really was.

For a while now, the only thing they put on the station was Jazz. It was a kind of soporific and sad Jazz. It did not make his situation any better. On the contrary, it made her more insufferable. In a swift movement of his hand he switched the radio station to one that was broadcasting the news. He arrived just in time to hear about a gang of thieves who kept robbing all around the city. According to what he managed weakly to hear, three banks had already been robbed and even the police had no idea who they were or where they were. It was a very depressing news, especially with the monotonous tone of the presenter. But strangely it made him feel calmer, calmer. Suddenly, the traffic did not seem so heartless, the people trapped in the despicable and the universe itself seemed, albeit in the least, more pleasant. At least he knew that his life was not the worst of all ...

He was looking around when, almost by magic, the cars slowly began to move. Their tires turned until they finally reached the intersection. The cars passed from one street to another while the traffic light, which seemed to be on top of them watching them, remained green. It did not take long to realize what was happening when he stepped on the accelerator and finally reached the change of direction. He turned left without waiting and ran through the desolate street. Apparently, things were finally turning in his favor. A grin of a smile slowly appeared on his lips.

The road that led to the bank was a well paved street. It was surrounded by small businesses like coffee shops and stationery stores. After all, they were in the middle of the most commercial area of the city. It was a closed road, at the back it was sealed by large stone slabs stacked one on top of the other so as not to give way. The remaining wall, which faced the other side of a residential area and even further to the road, was almost two meters high and three meters long. Above her was a network of barbed wire and above them the night sky. There was no one there, just a couple of cars parked on the edges of the street with their owners gone. It was a sepulchral silence on that thin street. Not one thing moved, nor a soul was around that place. It seemed to be abandoned, as if it were a ghost district. The only light I could see was the sign that read "central bank col-savings."

The car was sliding on the pavement in the darkness. He was accelerating, ignoring what could be happening around him. In less than a minute he had reached the bank, which rested as one of the last places on the street. He could not lose sight of the only place alive in that dead neighborhood. Looking quickly from one side to the other, he decided to park as close as he could to the bank. A completely empty space a few meters from the large metal doors that gave the place. Without thinking twice, he parked and got out of the car, closing the door with his foot. It was only five minutes before closing. He ran out as he had never done before in all his life and in the blink of an eye was seen holding the cold and golden handle of the entrance. He opened them as fast as he could-closing it just inside with an echo that bounced off all four walls-though a current of cold air and dust came with it. This interruption caused the three clients and the employees who were still there to look at him. He apologized for the interruption and made himself at the end of the line.

It was a small place, that bank. It was all one room with three small ATMs (although one was closed for maintenance) with their respective rows, separated by black ribbons. There was not a noise and the few people who were there remained silent, with the exception of an old lady who kept shouting about everything. In general the atmosphere was calm and things flowed quietly. He was right behind the old screaming lady. Every five seconds the old woman made a comment like 'what’s going on with the service?' Or 'they are taking too long!' Despite the consternation of others. But still nobody said anything. The thing with that kind of people is that you should let them say all the nonsense that comes to mind because if you say something, it will only make things worse for everyone involved.

The minutes passed heavily until it was finally his turn. He approached cautiously in front of the cashier, whose face resembled that of a corpse, which with what was probably the most false smile he had ever seen in his life, told him in a tone of being suffering unimaginably inside:

-Good afternoon, sir. to the central bank col-savings, what can I do for you today?

His depressing voice reached his ears and while he thought to himself that if his life was sad that poor man's should be thousands of times worse, he responded that he came to make a deposit leaving the money on the bare metal desk. The cashier took the money and started asking the protocol questions. Without giving a lot of thought to the matter he was responding to things like his account number and if he was going to deposit it to his checking or savings account. He almost did not realize what he was answering. At that moment, while the cashier counted the money to verify the amount he was entering, something caught his attention. At the beginning I could not say clearly what it was, but something was happening outside the bank. Something suspicious. Wrinkling his eyes he tried to see what happened while he ignored what was happening inside the premises. In his opinion, it was the only one who had noticed what was happening outside just when it happened.