It was a Thursday morning, ordinary in every way but one. I hadn’t planned to go to the bank — I usually sent my assistant — but that day, something in me said, Go yourself. I couldn’t explain it. It was just a quiet pull, the kind that whispers before logic catches up.

I slipped my jacket on, tucked the deposit envelope into my purse, and told myself I’d be in and out in five minutes.

The branch was nearly empty when I arrived. Cool air, faint smell of paper and disinfectant. A couple filled out forms near the counter. An elderly man flipped through a brochure. And by the window stood a man with his hands in his pockets, still as stone. Continues…