"I won't waste any more of your time," she said meekly, as she gathered up her business plan from the desk, tucked it away carefully, then stood. She moved away slowly, precisely, in the way a person does when they’re confused and have no idea which way to turn.

"Go home, lady," he said, noticing her confusion. "Find yourself a husband and have a couple of kids. Forget about trying to start a business. Let the men do that." In a last insult, he let his eyes slide over her body in a lascivious way.

She felt a sudden burst of rage. How dare he? She yanked the jar of cream from his desk and shoved it back in her bag. Let him keep his evil money and his greasy fingers off her precious bottle of skin cream. She gave him an evil look, then stormed out of the bank, not stopping to put on her coat until she was outside and felt the cold. She could almost hear the sneer in her father’s voice, asking, "Well what the hell did you expect?"

On the sidewalk, an emaciated black cat stopped to stare at her for a long moment, before running away. Obviously even the cat thought she was worthless. She thought about her father and thinking about him, she was sure he knew she would never succeed at anything and worse he was probably right. The urge to simply return home almost overwhelmed her but she had promised she would try and so she headed in the direction of another bank she knew of.

A short distance later, she passed Ozzie’s Café. The scent of the roasting chicken drenched her in its rich aroma. Ozzie’s was famous for its chicken, mashed potatoes and apple pie. How long had it been since they had eaten meat of any sort? The fierce hunger she felt for that chicken drained away her fear. Oatmeal, bread, weak tea, canned soup and boiled potatoes. That was all they ate anymore and she hated it. This wasn’t a game, it wasn’t a joke. If she were ever to succeed at anything, she had to do this.

One block further at Northeast Savings and Trust, she forced herself to hold her head high and stand up straight as she marched through the swinging doors. The bank was not quite as impressive as the previous bank, but she didn’t have to wait so long for the banker, an older man with a kind face. On his narrow wooden desk were pictures of his family. Seeing those pictures made her feel a little better, and this time her voice didn’t falter and sound so squeaky when she gave her spiel.