Page 10 of Cloud Storm

I tried to keep my mind busy, thinking about other things. The bookshelf behind him was full, but I was too far away to read the titles. In addition to the books, there were also several figures of animals made of paper on the shelves. Origami, the Japanese would say. One shelf was occupied by three bird-like figures in different sizes.

The sunlight streaming through the vertical window blinds made them shine, illuminating them and almost bringing them to life. I wondered what kind of paper they were made of.

They were beautiful.

Could he have made them himself? With those elegant hands that were currently taking care of my paperwork?

“Ariel Wilkinson...” he muttered disapprovingly, as if my name was a bad combination of ice cream flavors. He kept reading the papers for a long time, frowning until he finally spoke, and then his words were anything but kind. “I want you to leave my office right now before I call security.”

“What?” I asked in shock, having no idea what he meant.

“You heard what I said, ma’am.” That last word sounded like an insult, a big one.

“But I’ve brought you all the required documents needed to complete the application.”

“By complete the application, you mean complete a fraudulent one. How dare you present yourself in a serious institution, bringing with you a load of false documents?” he snapped angrily.

“What are you talking about?” I replied indignantly. There was nothing fraudulent in my folder. “You’re being very insulting.”

“And you insult my intelligence, Miss Ariel Wilkinson,” he growled. “If that even is your real name.”

“Well, it is,” I insisted, standing up, ready to leave.

“What kind of name is that?” he mocked. “When you hear it, you can’t tell if you are a man, a woman, a laundry detergent, or a little mermaid.”

“Coming from a man named Lancelot,” I retorted.

How dare he?

“It’s a perfectly decent name,” he replied as he rose from his seat.

“The name of a traitor, according to legend.”

He stared back at me, half surprised, half offended.

What? I’m not as ignorant as I seem and I happen to like history.

“Well,” he muttered in a tone that seemed more conciliatory, “Even assuming that Ariel really is your name, the other information you’ve supplied on the application is false.”

“It most certainly is not!” I insisted.

Of course everything was true.

Boom!

Fire with gasoline.

It threatened to become a pitched battle.

I clenched my fists by my side, trying hard to contain myself. Otherwise, the police were going to arrest me, not as a scammer, but for inflicting serious injuries to the one in the suit facing me. I was already calculating how many blows it would take to break his stuck-up nose.

He seemed to realize that my temper hung by a thin thread, and that, like Damocles’ sword, it was ready to fall on his head.

“Okay, so let’s see,” he said, dropping into the chair again and opening my file. “It says here that you live in an exclusive housing community in Downtown. Now, I know where that is, and I happen to know that it is very desirable and sought after, that there are no houses available, and that the waiting list is very long.”

“That may well be the case, but I assure you that is where I live. Too bad your jealousy isn’t on my short list of things to take care of today.”

“If you really could afford to live there, you wouldn’t be standing here in front of me requesting a loan for this negligible amount. If you had that kind of income, you’d surely be asking for a larger amount since your record would allow it.”

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