The air conditioning inside blew cold and smelled strongly of floor wax and stale coffee.

I went straight to the closest open teller window.

The young man behind the counter had on a crisp white shirt.

His plastic name tag said Marcus.

“I need to check the exact status of an account,” I said.

I took my wallet out of my purse and found my government ID.

I slid my military ID card across the smooth marble counter.

Marcus picked it up, looked at my rank, and typed my name into his keyboard.